The Engine
by California Kat
Summary: Having embraced their status as a new couple, Sookie and Eric must face down the threats that have gathered around them. (Part 3 of the trilogy that began with The Trunk.)
1. Chapter 1 (You're the) Devil in Disguise

**The Engine**

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 **Story Description: Having embraced their status as a new couple, Sookie and Eric must face down the threats that have gathered around them. (Part 3 of the trilogy that began with** _ **The Trunk**_ **.)**

 **Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No profit has been made from this work. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. The events in this story have been inspired by _True Blood_ and the _Southern Vampire Mysteries_ book series.

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 **I've seen the nations rise and fall**

 **I've heard their stories, heard them all**

 **But love's the only engine**

 **Of survival.**

— **Leonard Cohen (lyrics from "The Future")**

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(NOTE: The previous story in this series, _The Boot_ , ends on the early morning of Tuesday, Dec. 21)

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 **Chapter 01: (You're the) Devil in Disguise**

 **FRIDAY, DECEMBER 24 (10:00 p.m., Philippines time, near Manila)**

Bill Compton had lost almost a full day as he'd traveled from New Orleans to Manila in the Philippines. Of course, during his long life, he'd traveled to Asia before, but he was still quite disoriented when arriving there due to the time difference and the fact that he'd had to spend all of his travels—including his waking hours—in a travel coffin.

Of course, part of the discomfort of his travels was alleviated by the fact that Queen Sophie-Anne had actually paid for his last-minute flight, and the ticket had been quite expensive! Bill smiled to himself as he sat back in the uncomfortable seat of the rickety taxi cab, which had been—sadly enough—the best vehicle available for hire when he'd exited the airport.

Thanks to Andre, the queen thought that sending Bill to Asia to work on the database was _her_ idea—a way to get Bill out of everyone's hair for a while. Obviously, Andre knew exactly why Bill had decided to travel to the Philippines: finding and then using Appius Livius Ocella could very well be the only way to keep Eric Northman in check!

Bill placed a handkerchief over his nose and inhaled deeply, trying to counteract the unpleasant scents of the car he'd found himself in. He closed his eyes as he took in the sweet scent of the magnolia oil with which he'd tempered the piece of cloth. His father had planted some of the fragrant trees in order to please his mother.

Bill scoffed. In his estimation, his father had not been good enough at showing appreciation for the woman who, Bill felt, had been forced to put up with too much of her husband's ill temper. Thomas Compton had been a hard man, fashioned mostly by his father, William—Bill's namesake and grandfather. While Thomas could be mentally cruel, William had been physically brutal. Bill recalled enough about his harsh grandfather to know that. Hell—he'd been at the wrong end of many switches held in William's hand! And sometimes there had been no reason for the beatings. And what William Compton had done to the slaves with whips and chains was the stuff of nightmares.

Of course, the times during which William lived had been as hard as the man himself. Having been given land in the New World and having ambition that went beyond what he could fulfill in England—given the fact that he was the youngest son of a Duke who had too many sons altogether—William Compton brought his wife Elizabeth to Louisiana and set about producing crops and children. While most planters around him focused solely on growing cotton, William diversified and grew both cotton and sugar cane. Because of that, he was able to rotate his crops to keep his soil stronger—his crops bigger. William was also a genius when it came to irrigation. His plantation grew—and fast. Soon, he was competing with the Bellefleurs to be the most prominent man in the Northern Louisiana, and every year saw the Compton plantation house become grander and the slave count grow larger.

However, William was not a happy man during his life, and he made sure those around him were not happy either. He blamed his wife for giving him only one son, though she'd birthed ten children. When yellow fever managed to find its way to rural Louisiana in the 1830s, William packed up Thomas and traveled up-river to St. Louis for a time. While the two male Comptons were safe, eight of Thomas's sisters and his mother died because of the epidemic. Most of the children of the slaves who worked the plantation perished too, along with several adults. When the outbreak was finally over, William returned with new slaves, including a woman whom he took as his lover for a while—not that William had been shy about using his female slaves in such ways up until that point.

With such a role model, it was surprising that Thomas had grown to have any positive attributes at all, but—of course—by then the Comptons were an important family in the state, and "polite" appearances had to be kept up. Thomas was given the best education and was taught the best manners. And—at a New Orleans ball when he was nineteen years old—he won the heart of Eloise Croft—Ellie. She was the only daughter of an extremely wealthy investor who was focused on marrying his daughter off as soon as possible to someone he deemed worthy. Old Mr. Croft had been very ill at the time, and William was like a shark in the water. Thomas and Ellie "helped" the situation by being truly enamored with each other.

Bill closed his eyes more tightly so that he could better remember his beautiful, genteel mother. She'd been a petite woman, soft-spoken and with what he heard called a "delicate constitution." Bill recalled, most of all, her kindness—the love she so freely offered to Bill and his father. Sadly, however, Bill could not quite remember the specific color of her eyes. If he'd been able to know her as a vampire, he would, of course, recall all of her features perfectly. But she'd died when he was twelve years old—after having given birth to a still-born child, a brother that the young Bill glimpsed only once before he was wrapped up with his mother and put into a wooden coffin.

After that, the little bit of kindness that Thomas had occasionally shown had been mostly eclipsed by the kind of anger and bitterness that Bill now recognized as having grown from intense pain and grief. However, while Ellie had been alive, Bill saw what a loving relationship _could_ be like—at least in the rare times when Thomas would outwardly show his affection, like when he made a special trip to New Orleans just to arrange for mature magnolia trees to be brought to the Compton plantation. Thomas hadn't wanted for Ellie to have to wait for the saplings he planted to grow large enough to produce the lush blooms.

From the flowers of those carefully tended-to trees, Ellie had made oil, and she'd used it to scent things such as the handkerchief in Bill's hand. She'd taught Thomas's one remaining sister, Emma, the process for making the oil. Thomas had insisted it continue to be produced even after his wife's death—as a remembrance.

Bill had carried a bottle of that oil with him when he'd gone off to fight for the Confederacy. Occasionally, he'd allowed himself to pour a little of it onto the handkerchief that also accompanied him through the war. No matter how soiled or ragged that piece of cloth got, the oil would make it seem fresh again—at least, when he closed his eyes and let himself sink into his memories of home.

Now, as he gripped the cloth in his hand, he lamented a little that the scent of the oils he purchased could never quite capture the purity of the oil his mother and aunt had made. Still—using the oil was a habit he'd kept from his humanity, one of the few that even Lorena had no problems with since she enjoyed maintaining the pretense of gentility.

As Bill took one last inhalation of the handkerchief, he was reminded of his belief that, for him, Sookie was everything that his mother had been for his father. Ellie had been able to curb Thomas's baser qualities, though she had never insisted that he change any of himself for her. She had understood and accepted his rough edges, just as Bill was certain that Sookie had once understood and accepted his own. All he had to do was to get her out of Eric Northman's grips—so that she could be reminded (as gently as possible) of what she and he had meant to one another. Sookie had given him everything, including her virtue, and Bill knew that such a gesture meant a great deal to his beloved. Looking back, Bill could appreciate just how suited they'd been for each other; indeed, she was just as well-suited for him as his human wife, Caroline, had been. He'd lost his human wife—due to war and then Lorena.

"I will not lose Sookie! She just needs to remember us—remember how good we were—are—together," Bill said passionately, though so softly the driver could not hear him. Though he didn't continue to verbalize his thoughts, Bill knew in his heart that Sookie also needed to "remember"—or perhaps simply "embrace"—what his father would have called her "place." Bill couldn't help but to recall how flawlessly his mother had provided Thomas Compton with _exactly_ what he needed. Ellie Compton had truly understood how to behave as the ideal wife and partner to her husband; Bill knew that Sookie had equal potential to do the same.

The vampire smiled to himself as he put away the handkerchief. He had more confidence than ever that Sookie _would_ soon remember everything good about their relationship—thanks to Hallow.

Bill found himself ambivalent about his short tryst with the witch. She'd been on her best behavior, not attempting to take his blood from him without his permission, though he'd ultimately given her a couple of vials voluntarily.

Hallow was not a V addict—at least, not exactly. But she did use the blood for the occasional high. Mostly, however, she used it, along with magic, to strengthen herself. Thankfully, like him, Hallow had seen their association as a business one—first and foremost. They were helpful to each other—and could be even more helpful. Thus, Bill encouraged the fixation she'd somehow developed for Eric Northman, especially since Eric's being with Hallow would most certainly mean that Sookie would dismiss the Viking from her life.

Yes—that was the outcome Bill _needed_ to happen.

And that outcome was becoming more and more probable as all of his plans had been coming together—easily coming together, in fact.

"Because it is destiny," he said in a confident whisper.

Bill instinctively knew that Appius would be somehow necessary for his plans, and Hallow had been able to use the little bit of Eric's blood on the silver Sookie had drawn from his body in order to find the elder vampire. Andre had quickly offered to arrange for Bill's travels in a way that Queen Sophie-Anne would not understand the significance of. And, as a bonus, Hallow was currently concocting a powerful love spell that Bill planned to ensure was cast upon Sookie; the spell would make her forget all but her _heart's desire_. Bill never had a doubt that he— _not_ Eric Northman—was that desire for Sookie.

No doubt at all.

* * *

 **DECEMBER 24, 9:30 A.M., LOUISIANA TIME**

"Hey, Deb!" Charles Claussen said as he stepped out of the shadows. He looked around to make sure they were alone, his yellowish eyes seeming to absorb the sun as much as reflect it. As a wereowl, he looked strangely out of place in the sun—pensive even—though he was not harmed by its rays as vampires were.

"Charles!" Debbie enthused as she rose to her feet from the park bench where she'd been waiting. It was the first time she'd left Alcide's house following her self-imposed detox. During the days that she'd been with him, Alcide had kept his distance when he'd been home—staying in his bedroom (with the door locked) most of the time—though he had made sure that the refrigerator and freezer were stocked with food that could be easily prepared.

He'd also hidden the small amount of alcohol he usually kept in the house—believing that Debbie should avoid all controlled substances.

Hell! She was surprised he'd not taken away the damned coffee!

Still, the werefox was grateful to Alcide, though disappointed he'd not offered her any emotional support during her ordeal. She could admit that a part of her—a very large part—had hoped that he would be drawn back to her as he watched her suffer through detox.

Indeed, a part of her had hoped that they could start a new life together—away from both Mississippi and Louisiana.

She sighed. She figured she would have about one more week until Alcide kicked her out of his home, but she could do a lot in a week. First, however, she needed a clearer head—needed the withdrawal symptoms and the cravings to go away so that she could focus on her plan to make Alcide want her again.

And also focus on planning a way to get back at Sookie Stackhouse—without getting her own hands dirty.

And that's where Charles came in. She regarded her ex-fiancé, even as he studied her appearance.

"You look like shit, Deb," Charles judged.

"I feel like it too," she admitted with a laugh. "I've gotten off of it, Charles—the V. And as soon as I'm able, I'm gonna move up North—start a new life."

"Then why'd you contact me?" the wereowl asked with a smirk. "And—if you're so clean—why'd you ask me to bring you somethin' to take the edge off?"

Debbie scoffed. "You make it sound like I asked for V, you ass. I asked for methadone—didn't I? And that's just to help me get through all the," she paused and looked a little pained, "cravings."

Charles chuckled, the sound a mixture of cruelty and credulity. "And I brought it—though I can't believe I risked my beautiful feathers _for you_." He shook his head. "You don't know what Northman would do to me if he caught me in his territory—let alone with _you_!"

"Why would the Sheriff of Area 5 care about me?" Debbie asked with feigned innocence.

Charles snorted. "Don't be coy, woman! You know how gossip is in the pack. Rumor has it that you tried to kill a woman the Sheriff's claimed. And, because of your stunt, Russell has come down hard on all of us—forbidden us to enter Louisiana."

"Yet here you are," Debbie remarked with some surprise in her voice. "Why?"

Charles shrugged. "Given the way we ended things, I've been askin' myself that the whole time I've been drivin'. Truth is—part of me wants you back, Deb." He shook his head. "'Course, that's not possible since you've been abjured and all."

Debbie sighed loudly. "So the pack made it official?"

Charles nodded. "They couldn't exactly do anything else—seein' as how Russell expelled you from the state."

"Fuckin' Sookie Stackhouse," Debbie sneered, her eyes brimming with yellow for a moment.

"That's the name of the woman you tried to kill—isn't it?" Charles asked with a smirk.

"The name of the _cunt_!" Debbie corrected.

"And why did you want her dead? Oh wait! I know why!" Charles sneered sarcastically. "Sookie Stackhouse was the woman with Alcide at Club Dead. Did you try to kill her 'cause your ex was fuckin' her?" He scoffed and moved to turn away from her. "I'm outta here! It was a mistake to come—a mistake to even pick up your damned phone call! You clearly never got over Herveaux!" he spit.

Debbie grunted. "You've got no room to talk, Chuck!" she yelled, using the nickname she knew he hated.

He turned to face her again, the anger clear on his face. "What? I can't be pissed off that my fiancé is still hung up on another man? Hell! I bet you've been fucking Herveaux every day you've been shacked up with him!"

"I told you I'm just stayin' with him until I'm clean!" Debbie defended. "He doesn't want anything to do with me! And—anyway—why should it matter to you? You ain't my fiancé anymore! Oh—and don't think I didn't know that you were fuckin' other women when we were together! I'm not a fuckin' idiot, Chuck!"

Charles shook his head. "I wouldn't have needed to fuck anyone else if you weren't such a frigid bitch sometimes—probably because I couldn't live up to your precious Alcide in your eyes! Hell—even when you were affectionate with me—you were sometimes so hopped up on V that you'd pass out before I got off!"

"Don't talk like you aren't just as addicted as I am," Debbie charged.

Charles laughed. "I won't deny that I _like_ V. But I don't _need_ it like you do," he emphasized, an almost sinister smile playing upon his lips as he reached into his pocket and produced a little red vial.

Immediately, Debbie's eyes flashed yellow, and she began to pant.

"See what I mean?" the wereowl taunted.

"You bastard!" Debbie shrieked.

Charles put the vial back into his pocket before tossing her a small bag. "Not such a bastard that I won't give you the methadone."

Even in her state of withdrawal, Debbie easily caught the bag of pills. Immediately, her demeanor softened and she sank down onto the bench.

"Thank you," she whispered, clutching the bag as if it were a lifeline. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with sincere tears. "I know I'm a bitch sometimes, Charles. But—before you go—I want you to know that I'm really grateful you brought me these. They're gonna save my life," she added with a deep sigh.

Charles felt his bitterness and anger at the woman in front of him ebbing. "For what it's worth, I think it's good that you've gotta plan for movin' on with your life, Deb."

"You wouldn't be interested in moving on with me—would you?" Debbie asked softly.

The wereowl sighed and came to sit next to the vulnerable woman.

"I can't leave my pack, Deb," he responded.

She nodded, her body language making her look like she'd just lost a 10-round boxing match. "I didn't think you would." She laughed mirthlessly. "It seems to be my lot in life that I won't find someone to put me first."

Charles shook his head with frustration and roughly ran his hand through his thick red hair. "You weren't so good at puttin' me first either, Deb—what with Herveaux always lurking in that heart of yours and V almost always the first thing on your mind.

Debbie wiped away a tear. "You're right. You deserve better than me."

Charles put one of his muscled arms around Debbie's shoulder and pulled her to rest against his side. "We had some happy times, Deb."

"But not enough," she sighed.

He shrugged. "Enough for a while—for the both of us."

She looked up at him, her eyes still brimming with tears. "I do love you, Charles."

He smiled at her and gave her the briefest of kisses. "I love you too, Deb; I'm sorry it's not enough."

"Me too," she returned wearily.

"So? What's your plan?" Charles asked, trying to move away from the emotions Debbie provoked in him.

The werefox sighed. "First, I need to get my focus," she said, holding up the methadone. "And then I'll make some calls. I have a friend—Tonya—that joined a pack in Idaho. I'll start by calling her—see if her people would let me join their pack."

"It might not be easy to get in," the wereowl said with some regret in his voice. "I know the Jackson pack won't be willing to give you a good referral."

Debbie shrugged. "I'm not countin' on one. Tonya's pack is lookin' to enlarge, and they need breeding females—willing to birth firstborns without fucking up the marriages of the studs. If they deem me healthy, I won't have an issue gettin' in."

Charles frowned. "I don't like the thought of you bein' a breeder, Deb."

She shrugged again. In truth, she didn't really like the idea either—which was why she'd been at least a little hopeful that Charles would go with her. That no longer seemed possible, but she was still holding onto a tiny thread of hope that Alcide's heart might soften toward her again.

But Charles didn't need to know that.

"I don't have a lot of options," she whispered. "Realistically, becoming a breeder isn't a bad outcome for me. I mean—I'd be taken care of. And Tonya said her pack actually respects breeders."

"You'll have to carry and raise kids from different men," Charles said, his frown deepening. "And none of those Were daddies would put you first, Deb."

"Maybe not. But the breeders in Tonya's pack are all real close, so I'd have friends—people I could count on. What's more—her pack lets the breeders actually raise their kids—with the support of the pack—instead of forcing them to give up the kid to the father and his wife."

"Well—that's something," Charles conceded.

"And I've always wanted to be a mom," Debbie added.

Charles nodded in recognition. "I know. But—I wish there was another way for you to be one."

She held in her credulity. There was, after all, another way, but neither of them voiced that Charles could have picked her over his pack.

And Debbie certainly didn't voice her true preference—that she would ultimately be traveling north with Alcide, rather than alone. With him, she wouldn't need a pack. Ideally, they could build a life as lone wolves somewhere. Maybe she'd even convince him to change his mind about having a family someday, though she wouldn't push it. No—she'd pretty much reconciled herself to the fact that she would get to become either a wife or a mother.

Not both.

"Of course, I can't go anywhere until Sookie Stackhouse is taken care of," Debbie remarked bitterly as she put her possible futures to the side for the moment.

"What do you mean?" Charles asked.

Debbie looked up at him like he was crazy for missing the obvious. "As long as she's alive, I'm in danger!"

Charles shook his head. "No, Deb. I don't think that's true. I mean—Russell just banished you; he didn't kill you. And you know that if Sookie Stackhouse or Sheriff Northman had wanted you dead, they'd have had Russell do it. Deb," he said, gripping her shoulders and looking at her intently, "leave the Stackhouse woman alone!"

Debbie shook her head. "You just don't get it, Charles. That cunt's the reason for all the bad that's been happenin' to me lately. And—as long as she's alive—I'll always have to look over my shoulder. No matter where I go!"

Charles shook his head. "Deb, you've been givin' a get outta jail free card here, and from what I can tell, no one's gonna fuck with you as long as you don't fuck with them!"

Debbie frowned, her expression full of skepticism. "You're naïve if you think that, Charles."

The wereowl looked at Debbie with exasperation as he stood up quickly. "If you're gonna go down that path, Debbie, I want nothin' more to do with it. And I wouldn't bother makin' arrangements with your friend, Tonya, either! If you make a move against Northman's woman, you'll be dead before you can cross outta Louisiana."

Debbie sneered. "Thanks for all the faith, Charles. You know I'm known for my stealth; I'll be able to handle killin' a human, and I'll make sure no one suspects I'm involved."

The wereowl shook his head at his ex-fiancé again. "If you're set on plottin' against Northman's woman, don't even think about callin' me again, Deb—not ever."

"I wouldn't dream of it!" she cried, wiping away a few errant angry tears.

Charles turned to stomp away, but then paused.

"I did love you, Deb. And I hope you get out of all this clean." He turned briefly to look over his shoulder. "Goodbye," he said with finality, before moving away.

"Goodbye," Debbie sighed.

In truth, she'd been hoping for more from Charles, but she'd gotten what she'd needed most. She got up to walk away in the opposite direction from her once fiancé—towards a small city pool at the edge of the park she'd met Charles in. She looked around to ensure that no one was near before lithely climbing over the chain-link fence. She wouldn't be able to hide the fact that she'd gone out from Alcide; indeed, she planned to tell him that she was walking around the park. However, she needed to hide Charles's scent.

Thinking ahead, she'd pre-set what she would need, and the public pool—shut down, of course, during the winter months—was an ideal location. Before she got to the small locker room, she stripped, and—after palming what Charles had so helpfully provided—she placed her clothing into a trash bag. She'd leave the bag in the locker room just in case she needed it, but she couldn't risk taking the clothing back to Alcide's to wash.

After stowing the clothing bag into one of the empty lockers, she went into a shower stall. There was the other trash bag she'd pre-set, this one with fresh clothing. Next to it were two small Ziplock bags: one with a small piece of the soap she'd been using at Alcide's and the other filled with a few teaspoons of her shampoo. She'd also brought along an old towel that she knew Alcide wouldn't miss. She placed the trash bag of clothing as well as the little bag of methadone just outside of the shower stall so that they wouldn't get wet. Still in her hand, however, was the vial of V that she'd "lifted" from Charles's pocket when she'd leaned into his comforting embrace.

She stared at the vampire blood for a few moments, truly hating it in that moment. She didn't want it and contemplated pouring it down the shower drain. But she couldn't do that. She would need that V for when she went after Sookie Stackhouse. The boost of strength she would get from it might make the difference between life and death.

And Debbie would always choose survival—at least, her own.

As she placed the vial on top of a little ledge in the shower stall so that she could keep it safely in her line of sight, the werefox promised herself that taking the little dose of V to help her kill Sookie Stackhouse would be the very last time she touched the stuff.

"Poison," she said a bit unconvincingly as she turned on the shower.

The water was cold, but that could not be helped since the electricity didn't seem to be on at the pool. It was enough that the water was still on. Plus—being two-natured—Debbie was used to being in harsh elements, especially on the nights of full moons. As she showered and washed her hair, she thought about Charles. Yes—a part of her had hoped for much more from him. It was the part that wanted him to offer to flee the region with her—especially when he heard of her plan to join a pack as a breeder. She worked to scrub Charles's scent off of her, even as she continued to wonder what might have been. Together, she and Charles could have joined a pack; as a strong male, he would have been accepted quickly, and they would have had high status as a married couple. Though neither of them were Were, Tonya's pack welcomed all members of the two-natured variety because of their expansionist mindset. Indeed, Tonya was also a werefox and had assured Debbie that there was no prejudice from the Weres of the group.

Debbie thought about her friend Tonya for a moment; like Debbie, Tonya had been raised by adoptive parents, and—like her—she had suffered from a drug problem before she cleaned herself up and moved North. Tonya had been with her new pack for three years and was working on child number two. Her first child—a son—was fathered by the packmaster. Of course, the packmaster already had a wife; together, he and his wife had three children, though only the first would shift. The packmaster had also fathered three other children with other breeders. Tonya was now carrying the child of the packmaster's second-in-command. According to Tonya's latest ultrasound, the child would be a girl.

In exchange for being a breeder, Tonya had been given a nice home. Her bills were paid and she received a monthly "allowance" that more than covered her needs and modest wants. For work, she was pretty much a stay-at-home mother, though she and the other breeders rotated a kind of daycare service so that they all got time to themselves. Tonya's pack seemed to have avoided many of the petty jealousies that so often broke out between breeders and spouses.

Still, Debbie cringed at the idea of being a "kept woman."

Charles hadn't given her another option, however.

And—so far—neither had Alcide.

She closed her eyes and resolved herself before turning off the water. She _would_ be fine as a breeder. Indeed, after four children, a breeder was offered support for life and could even marry if she chose. And Idaho seemed like a "safe" place. Tonya's pack had very little interaction with vampires, and V wasn't an issue in it (Debbie had already made sure of that). Yes—she could be a breeder, and being a mother without having the complications of a spousal relationship might be just what she needed.

She put her hands on her flat tummy for a moment, imagining herself pregnant and promising that she'd be the best mother she could. Her adoptive mother had given her a wonderful example to follow, after all.

She grabbed the towel and rethought her plan to try to regain Alcide's affections. On the one hand, she loved him and wanted so badly to be with him. On the other, she wondered if she could ever be happy with him, given the fact that he would keep her from motherhood—simply because he refused to father a two-natured child.

Maybe she'd be better off just cutting her losses and joining Tonya's pack without doubts or regrets.

After she was dry, she took a comb to her hair, knowing that she'd need to stay outside in the park for about an hour so that it could dry enough to make her story of a "walk in the park" feasible. In truth, she had no idea when Alcide would get home from work, but she wasn't about to take any chances.

Debbie felt herself shaking due to withdrawals as she got dressed. The distraction of meeting with Charles and cleaning up the evidence of that meeting had clearly pushed away her withdrawal symptoms for a while, but they seemed to be back with a vengeance as she had trouble lacing up her shoes. She grabbed the baggie of methadone tablets and counted thirty. She figured she'd take them as sparingly as possible, knowing that she'd have a set-back as soon as she took the V that would help her kill Sookie Stackhouse.

But—after that—she could count on the rest of the methadone to help her get through the withdrawal that would come with her planned short "relapse."

For just a moment, Debbie heard Charles's words echo in her head. Was he right? Would it be better to forget all about Sookie Stackhouse and just travel North as soon as possible? With the methadone helping to curb her cravings, she knew that she'd be able to make it on her own now.

She shook her head. "No!" she said aloud.

Sookie Stackhouse _needed_ to die. Debbie was certain that Sookie would never let her live in peace. Indeed, the werefox was even more sure that Sookie wanted Alcide, and that meant that she'd eventually see Debbie as a threat. And then the cunt would use one of her vampire lovers to kill Debbie. And—even if Sookie never gave Debbie another thought—the werefox was confident that she needed to die. If for no other reason—she needed to be eliminated as even a possibility for Alcide. He was too good for her!

It was very true that Debbie felt that no one should have Alcide but herself; however, if the man she loved more than anyone else had to end up with another, she wasn't about to allow that person to be Sookie Stackhouse—a fangbanging whore!

"I'll kill that cunt before I let that happen. I swear it!" she said as she grabbed the V from its perch in the shower stall.

* * *

 **A/N: Well? I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of** _ **The Engine**_ **—not that it's easy to read from the perspectives of the "bad guys." I promise that next week's chapter will get you caught up on what's been going on with Sookie and Eric. In the meantime, have a great week!**

 **Please leave a review if you have the time and the inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	2. Chapter 2: Datin'

**Chapter 02: Datin'**

 **FRIDAY, DECEMBER 24 (10:00 a.m., Louisiana Time)**

"So—uh—how'd you want me to peel the carrots again?" Jason asked with confusion.

Sookie chuckled and rolled her eyes. A master of the culinary arts her brother was _not_!

"It's okay, Jase. I got this," Sookie assured, taking the peeler and the _parsnips_ —not carrots—from her grateful-looking brother.

He looked up when he heard a loud noise from upstairs. "You know, Sook, I tried seein' what was goin' on up there. But that big fella in charge—what's his name? Mason Harpo or somethin'—wouldn't let me," Jason whined like a five-year-old. "What all you doin' up there anyhow? And on Christmas Eve?"

"It's Jackson Herveaux. And just some renovations and upgrades. And—um—the workers are real happy to get extra holiday pay," Sookie responded somewhat enigmatically (her word-of-the-day the day before). Jason didn't need to know _all_ the details of what was being done— _or why_ it was important for her to do it when she was doing it.

"Well—the dude in charge wanted me to tell you that they'd be done by 4:00 p.m.," Jason reported.

"Great! That's even before he said they'd be done!" Sookie smiled.

When she'd popped awake on the previous Tuesday morning with her idea for Eric's Christmas present, she'd worried that her plans were unrealistic—that there was no way that the renovations she wanted could be completed in only one _day's_ time—which was what would be needed in order to make "the gift" a surprise for Eric. Though disappointed, she'd reconciled herself to the notion that she'd simply tell the vampire about her plan on Christmas; then she'd gone back to trying to figure out what to get him as a physical gift for exchange.

It had been mild outside when Tara came by for a quick lunch that same day. The two had decided to eat on the porch, and Sookie had mentioned her idea to her friend—when Maria-Star was within earshot.

The Were had very good ears.

And she was nothing if not an effective organizer and initiative-taker. By that night, Thalia was involved in the project. And the next thing that the telepath knew, Colonel Flood was calling her Wednesday morning with the names of a few potential contractors, with whom Sookie discussed her project—and its time limitations—on the phone Wednesday afternoon.

All without Eric knowing.

Needless to say, given what she'd seen that week, Sookie wondered if there was any logistical project that Maria-Star and Thalia wouldn't be able to accomplish together! Hell! They'd even arranged for the contractor's equipment to be "magically enhanced" so that things like piping and tile could "set" quickly and be used immediately. Jackson indicated that such things were common actually, especially with vampire jobs.

Seeing Jason start to poke around in the ingredients she had out on the counter, Sookie went to the refrigerator to grab her brother a beer. It was early in the day, but there _had_ to be some sort of game on television to keep Jason occupied—right? Just then, she "heard" Tara and Tray come into her range.

Thank goodness!

"Hey, Jase? Would you mind helpin' Tara and Tray bring in the groceries?" she asked, happy for the excuse to get him out from under-foot—as least, temporarily.

"Sure!" Jason enthused, glad that he would now have a male companion to hang out with since he'd been told by Maria-Star that he couldn't "hang out" with Onawa until her shift was over—a delay that seemed to be causing Jason physical pain, at least, that's how he was acting.

The telepath smiled to herself. She had to admit that Jason's thoughts had been _almost_ one-track since he'd first laid eyes on the gorgeous shifter—with the one-night detour with Crystal Norris being the only exception. And Onawa's eyes seemed just as smitten by the elder Stackhouse sibling.

"Match made in either heaven or hell," Sookie muttered as she heard Jason and Tara greeting one another.

Thankfully, Tara's re-budding interest in Jason had fallen off the vine before it had really started to ripen; indeed, she'd been out on two dates with Tray just that week—one on Tuesday night and one the night before. The two seemed equally taken with one another; in fact, the night before, they had even discussed exclusivity.

Tara's excited and squealing 3:00 a.m. phone call would have woken Sookie up the night before when she'd not been able to put off gushing about her date—if the telepath hadn't been on an outing of her own. With a certain blond vampire.

As for Jason and Onawa, Sookie couldn't help but to think that they _might_ be heading in the direction of a committed relationship too—even though the thought of "Jason" and "committed" being used in the same sentence would have shocked her the week before.

"Unless it was bein' committed to beer," she chuckled to herself.

Somewhat surprisingly, on Wednesday night, Onawa had asked to meet with Eric and Sookie in order to discuss her desire to begin "dating" Jason. The shifter wanted not only to tell Jason what she was, but also to _show_ him. However, she'd been aware that Jason knew nothing about the two-natured, and she didn't want to step out of line by telling him about the existence of shifters and other kinds of two-natured beings.

Ultimately, after discussing the matter with Eric, Sookie had decided that Jason needed to know some of the basics about the Supe world and about his inherited "allure." That way, he could avoid situations like the whole Crystal Norris debacle. Mostly, however, Sookie felt that Jason had the _right_ to know what Sookie knew about their family lineage.

She shook her head—hardly believing that it had been only four nights since her meeting with the part-demon—since she herself had learned that she was, indeed, part fairy as Eric and Thalia had speculated. Of course, none of them had suspected that the Stackhouse siblings would be related to Fae royalty!

To his credit, Jason had taken in the knowledge that there were two-natured beings, demons, fairies, and Britlingens pretty well. He'd been introduced to the Were guard that Eric had protecting him, Henry, and the two seemed to get along great. Jason had—as could be expected—taken the news about Gran and Grandpa Mitchell a little hard. From her brother's head, Sookie picked up that Jason could understand their motivation to have children. However, his own identity was shaken quite a bit when he learned that he'd inherited the allure of the Fae. In truth, Jason's ego had been bruised due to the fact that it wasn't just his "natural charms" that drew women to him. He didn't like the fact that genetics (a science he'd mistakenly called "geriatrics" in his mind—much to Sookie's amusement) had been helping him "score women."

Still—all things considered—Jason had done well with the knowledge that he was more than human. Sookie shook her head and smirked. In typical Jason fashion, just as he'd begun to re-grasp his "mojo," a thought had occurred to him. He'd anxiously asked her and Eric if being a fairy would turn him gay; for a second, Sookie had been tempted to tell him that it would. But her sometimes simpleton brother's head would have likely exploded—not because he was prejudiced against gay people, but because he just couldn't imagine himself not liking women.

"Which is why he was an idiot for askin' about it in the first place," the telepath muttered. And— _because_ he could be an idiot, Eric had glamoured Jason—as a safeguard—to ensure that he would not to speak of the Supernatural world ( _including_ Sookie's telepathy and his own Fae-nature) to people he shouldn't.

After his needless meltdown that his own sexuality might suddenly change, Jason had "redeemed himself" when he'd been told that most of Sookie's day guards were two-natured. According to his thoughts, Jason had never had even one "second thought" about his attraction for Onawa. In fact, he'd immediately asked if she'd shift for him; he'd been in awe of her when she took on her bear form in front of him. Sookie chuckled as she remembered his exact words, "Jesus Christ, Sookie! My girlfriend is a fuckin' badass!"

In truth, the telepath had been a little floored by the pride in his voice and pleased by his immediate acceptance. However, she'd been downright shocked that he'd called her his "girlfriend." That was a first for Jason—and after only a couple of days too!

It seemed that love was in the air.

Sookie looked up as a loud drill started up upstairs. As she'd been periodically doing since the workmen came at sunrise, she skipped into one of the workers' heads and then another's and then another's and finally into Jackson Herveaux's thoughts. Most of the workers were just focused on doing the job quickly and _well_ so that they could get home to their families for the holiday. Despite working on Christmas Eve, however, they were also quite pleased that they were earning bonus pay for the project.

As for Jackson, he was looking forward to seeing Janice, his daughter. But he was disappointed that Alcide had claimed that he had other commitments for the holidays. The older Herveaux regretted his strained relationship with his son and blamed himself.

In truth, after her last interaction with Alcide, Sookie had initially worried about bringing _any_ Herveaux onto her home's renovation project. And she'd heard (and "heard") a lot of negatives about Jackson from Alcide during their brief trip to Jackson, Mississippi. But—of all the contractors she'd talked to on the phone—Jackson had shared the renovation plans that had sounded most appealing to the telepath. And she'd immediately gotten the feeling that she would "like" the elder Herveaux, despite what Alcide had said (and thought) about him. In a follow-up call to Colonel Flood, Sookie had made sure that Jackson Herveaux could handle the work she wanted him to do. The packmaster had assured Sookie—vouching personally—that Alcide's father was doing a lot better in his personal life, even getting help for the root causes of his gambling—a mixture of alcohol abuse and grief over the death of his wife.

Ultimately, Sookie had hired Herveaux and Son based on her gut, Colonel Flood's assurance, and Maria-Star's recommendation (as well as the Were's positive thoughts about Jackson Herveaux, despite his past difficulties). The telepath figured that—if anyone would know potential problems with Jackson Herveaux—it would be the head of her daytime security. Moreover, Sookie trusted Maria-Star—more and more every day.

Of course, none of her guards knew the full story of why Sookie's hiring choice _might_ have been an awkward one for her to make.

Thalia, of course, had thoroughly checked into _everyone_ on Jackson Herveaux's team. The Were hadn't minded; he also hadn't asked any questions when Sookie specified that Alcide be left off the crew— _if_ he was even back in Shreveport. According to Jackson's thoughts, he was simply grateful—grateful that his life no longer seemed to be swirling down a drain pipe and very grateful that Colonel Flood had, quite literally, pulled him out of a gutter and helped him to get his life back on track the month before. In fact, the Were kept thinking with pride about the thirty-day sobriety chip currently in his shirt pocket. And—at least for the moment—Sookie knew that Jackson's thoughts about both gambling and alcohol were tinged with disgust, grief, despair, and fear, a list of emotions that the telepath hoped would keep him away from his addictions.

All in all, Sookie was happy for Jackson Herveaux and—so far—she was extremely happy with his work.

However, her feelings about Alcide were still quite mixed. On the one hand, she really had enjoyed his company—at least, for most of her Jackson trip. And she'd not really discouraged his romantic overtures in her direction. Looking back, she knew that she'd kissed Alcide because she was still smarting over Bill's abandonment and reeling due to her tumultuous, suppressed and—at the time—unresolved feelings for Eric. A part of her now felt very bad, for—in a way—she'd used Alcide. On the other hand, the Were—too—had taken advantage of their covert, Bill-finding operation. Alcide had used Sookie to make Debbie as jealous as possible—despite knowing that his werefox ex had obsessive tendencies.

The telepath shook her head. Whatever may have happened with Alcide under different circumstances, his odd possessiveness of Sookie after the trunk incident was bewildering and disturbing to the telepath; in some ways, it seemed out of nowhere, as did the Were's animosity for Eric in particular. Alcide had thought about her as being _his_ , and Sookie hadn't been comfortable with that at all! Indeed, especially now, she didn't need Alcide Herveaux thinking _any_ thoughts about her. Now that she had resolved her feelings about Eric, any romantic notions Alcide had regarding her would just hurt him.

And she didn't want to hurt him, which was why she'd asked Jackson to exclude his son from the job on her home. Plus—on Christmas Eve—especially given the nature of the work she was having done in her home—the telepath didn't need the drama of Alcide trying to talk her out of her decisions— _again_!

"I swear I will never, _ever_ again go to Wal-Mart on Christmas Eve!" Tara lamented as she carried in two bags of groceries. Tray and Jason followed, their burdens even greater.

"It sucked two days ago, too," Sookie commiserated. "And I even had Maria-Star, Diantha, _and_ Onawa with me as a buffer."

"Is—uh—when's Onawa gonna get here?" Jason asked trying—and failing—to sound nonchalant.

Tara rolled her eyes. She was grateful that it had taken her only about a day to get over her nostalgic feelings for Jason; of course, getting to know Tray had helped her along with that process.

"She and Willow are comin' over at 4:30 p.m.," Sookie conveyed. "But Warren and Mustapha aren't due till after dark since they're on duty till the vampires wake up."

Jason smiled widely. "Hey—since Willow's gonna be here, maybe I should call Hoyt!"

"Jason Stackhouse!" Sookie said loudly, as her sometimes-clueless brother pulled his cellphone from his pocket. "You are _not_ gonna take Hoyt away from his Momma on Christmas Eve!"

"But you don't even like Maxine," Jason pouted.

"That's not the point!" she scolded, shaking her head.

Jason shrugged. "Whatever. I'm sure Hoyt would prefer bein' over here, but fine. Come on Tray," he said, grabbing his beer and then another from the refrigerator for the Were, "I'm sure there's a game on." Jason left the kitchen after stealing a few olives from a bowl Sookie had just put out.

Tray bent down to kiss Tara on the cheek. "Need any help?"

Tara smiled up at him. "No. Just keep Jason out from underfoot, and you'll be doin' us a big favor."

"Amen," Sookie chuckled as Tray left the room.

"Are Jason and Onawa actually an _official_ couple yet, or are they still just flirting like crazy?" Tara asked in a low voice as they heard Tray greet Jason and ask him which game was on.

Sookie chuckled. "As of Wednesday night, they're official. _Unfortunately_ —Onawa was thinking about him this morning when I woke up and did my sweep of brains," she sighed. "Note to self: No reading Onawa _ever again_!"

"She might just be what he needs," Tara observed. "You know—Willow told me that Onawa is sort of the female version of Jason. What would a female 'man-whore' be called?" she asked herself.

Sookie frowned. The female version would just be called a 'whore' in Bon Temps—not that Sookie thought that was right. For her part, she'd always hated the double-standard with how male versus female "conquests" were viewed. Indeed, Sookie didn't like the idea of making "conquests" at all. To their credit, neither Jason nor Onawa viewed their many lovers as notches on their bedposts. Both of them simply seemed to enjoy casual sex and had no problems finding willing partners. Sookie didn't judge either one.

"I just want Jase to be happy. Onawa too," Sookie said sincerely.

"Yeah," Tara agreed.

The two friends went about unpacking the groceries.

"We may be going overboard," Tara chuckled when she looked at everything.

"True, but Gran would be pleased that we're actin' like grown-ups and hostin' our first big Christmas dinner together. Don't you think?" Sookie asked with a wide grin.

"I _do_ think! Plus, I've seen both Tray and Jason eat!" Tara said with a smile as she got to work on the potatoes.

"Well—if Tray eats like Jason, then we might need more!" Sookie chuckled as she turned back to mixing up stuffing and thought about how her little Christmas Eve get-together had come about.

After Tara had excitedly agreed to cohost, the two friends had spent much of the last couple of days planning a menu. They'd decided to have the buffet-style meal ready for human and two-natured guests by about 6:00 p.m. Of Sookie's regular day-time guards, Onawa, Willow, Mustapha, and Warren were coming. Of course, Sookie had extended an invitation to Maria-Star too, but the Were had declined. Sookie had felt sad thinking Maria-Star would be alone for the holiday until she'd caught a stray thought from the Were's head about going to Colonel Flood's house after sundown. She'd even be taking the next day off so that she could stay overnight with her godparents.

In addition to her full-time guards, Tray, Jason, and—of course—Tara would be in attendance. Sookie had also considered inviting Aphra. After Mr. Cataliades's visit, Sookie had phoned the part-Britlingen, who had met with her on Tuesday afternoon following her lunch with Tara. Sookie had appreciated Aphra's guidance in understanding Supe behavior, and she'd come away from the counseling session with a better understanding of why Fintan had suggested his deal with Gran and Grandpa Mitchell in the first place. Even after their productive meeting, however, Sookie had decided not to invite her counselor for Christmas Eve. Oh—she liked Aphra a lot, but she realized that it might be better if they didn't mingle in social settings—given all the sessions the two had in front of them.

Oddly, Ginger had made the invitation list. Unexpectedly, she'd become a quick friend when Sookie had spent Tuesday night practicing her telepathy at Fangtasia. Indeed, the bottle blonde wasn't nearly as dimwitted as she had seemed at first—probably because she was no longer being glamoured extensively by Long Shadow. Surprisingly, Ginger had been downright welcoming and—unlike the other waitresses—was happy for Eric and Sookie when it became apparent to her that the two were a couple. When Sookie surprised herself by inviting her for the party, Ginger had truly regretted saying "no." As it turned out, many of the Fangtasia waitresses were going over to Ginger's house for Christmas dinner, and Ginger needed Christmas Eve to prep.

The telepath had also extended an invitation to Diantha, whom she'd liked almost immediately, despite the fact that she could catch only about half of what the young demoness said. Of course, Sookie hadn't held any reservations she had toward Mr. Cataliades against Diantha; after all, Diantha hadn't known about Fintan and his mostly-human offspring. However, the demoness had ultimately declined the invitation since she wanted to return to New Orleans to spend the holiday with her sister and uncle, something she'd been able to do since the Britlingen guard, Batanya, had arrived the night before—quite a bit before expected.

Sookie could admit that Batanya intimidated her a little. _Okay—a lot_. The brunette guard was stunning, but she looked so fierce that Sookie wondered if she could kill with her eyes alone. According to Aphra, Batanya was one the best and strongest Britlingens available for hire, and "Supe rumor" had it that she had been in talks to join Clovache, Aphra's grandmother, in guarding the King of Kentucky when Mr. Cataliades had made a higher bid for her services. "Supe rumor" also had it that the demon lawyer had offered Batanya double her usual asking price because she was so skilled.

Sookie didn't like to contemplate the costs of the Britlingen's service; however, she wouldn't let herself feel bad for Mr. Cataliades either. If he felt the need to make things up to her, the telepath was going to let him in this case. Since the night he'd made his revelations to her, Sookie had learned more about fairies from Eric. Hesitantly, he'd even told her about the reputations of Neave and Lochlan. Ultimately, after hearing his words, Sookie had been extremely grateful that her parents had merely been drowned, a fact that she was certain of since she'd seen their corpses from Bud Dearborn's head long before they'd been cleaned up for their caskets.

The telepath shook herself from that memory and focused on the fact that she would no longer need to worry about the likes of Neave and Lochlan. They would be no match for Batanya, who could quite literally work all day and all night. According to Eric, she could kick major fairy ass. Also, according to Eric, Batanya could even kick his ass, though a fight between them would be a close call.

Sookie had quite literally "felt" Eric's void "soften" when Batanya had arrived—as if a weight was off his shoulders. He'd been worried about the fairy threat—much more than he'd let on. Eric could now assure her (and himself) that Batanya could take on anything that arrived during the day time.

A small army of "anythings," in fact.

As Eric and Sookie had discussed and agreed upon, Batanya would remain "cloaked" most of the time to preserve the secret of her presence. Moreover, it was clear that the Britlingen preferred it that way! Sookie hadn't needed Aphra to tell her that Britlingen guards were all business when they worked—even more so than Thalia and Maria-Star, whose stony demeanors still seemed un-chippable. Sookie was okay with that, though she had a feeling that she would "crack" at least one of those two— _eventually_. In fact, she and Pam had made a bet as to which one would crack first. Pam thought Maria-Star would be the one. Sookie was betting on Thalia.

Needless to say, she wouldn't be betting on Batanya "cracking" any time soon, and it was clear that she'd have no interest whatsoever in attending the Christmas Eve gathering.

Sookie had contemplated inviting Sam to the get-together, but ultimately decided against it. Sam hadn't given her any reason to doubt his friendship since their heart-to-heart talk the week before, but she didn't want to risk an awkward situation when the vampires in her life showed up to the party after sundown. And—to be frank—she cared about their comfort a lot more than she cared about Sam's Christmas Eve plans.

Turning her thoughts to those vampire guests, Sookie smiled to herself. Pam, Bubba, and Molly were all planning to attend. She'd invited Padma, but the beauty would be with her vampire sister that night, and Thalia would be on duty. Of course, Eric would be coming to the party; she felt herself warm a little at the prospect of seeing him—though she'd said goodnight to him less than twelve hours before.

"There's your _Eric smile_ again," Tara said with mock chiding.

The telepath blushed. "Yeah," she admitted.

"So? How's all of that goin'? Still good? Wait—let me rephrase. Still _great_?" she amended with a knowing smile.

Sookie sighed. "Yeah."

"Any details you're willing to share?" Tara giggled.

"Same old, same old," the telepath grinned widely.

Tara knew by now what that meant: long talks, both about super-secret "Supe" stuff and personal stuff; lots of "necking," kissing, and light groping; and even more snuggling.

After talking things over with Sookie, Tara had been happy to get glamoured so that she couldn't talk about the Supe stuff she was aware of, which was only a little compared to Sookie. Or—at least—Tara couldn't talk about her knowledge with humans. She was free to talk about it with Sookie and other Supes—like Tray.

"That's _Tray's_ _smile_ ," Sookie whispered knowingly.

Tara nodded but put her finger over her mouth. She definitely knew about Supe hearing. She mouthed the word "later," to which the telepath nodded.

Of course, from Tara's head, Sookie had already picked up the fact that things were going _really_ well with Tray. As they'd only been on two dates, they hadn't had sex yet, but Tara thought it was only a matter of time.

Just like her and Eric. The telepath sighed as she mixed a green bean casserole.

She and Eric had spent extensive time together every night since he brought her home from her Monday-night meeting with the demon. Tuesday, she'd done her practicing at Fangtasia, and Wednesday, she and Eric had dealt with the Jason situation before Eric had taken Sookie with him for several meetings with some of his business associates. The night before, they'd had their second "official date," going to the Supernatural restaurant, Les Deux Poissons, since Sookie had loved the take-out she'd had from there and wanted to see what it was like firsthand. The meal had been lovely, as had been meeting Amelia, the witch who had a talent for stasis spells. After dinner and a bit of dancing, Eric had taken Sookie to a lake in the middle of nowhere, where the vampire had built a bonfire and had begun teaching her about the constellations which had once guided his own sea voyages.

They'd been interrupted briefly by Tara's call, but—other than that—they'd been able to shut out the rest of the world for hours.

Since Monday (after the meeting with Desmond Cataliades), Eric had stayed over in her cubby every day. Sookie had greatly enjoyed his company in her home and found that she slept better when she could fall asleep in his strong arms. She was ready to wake up in those arms.

She hid the blush that rose with that thought by turning away from Tara to put her casserole in the oven, a difficult task, given the number of dishes already in the space; then she refocused on the training she'd done earlier in the week. All in all, it was going along very well! Diantha, who was also a telepath, even gave Sookie a few pointers, which she'd been very grateful for.

Through Diantha's guidance and practice, Sookie's range had increased to the point that she could pick up people as far away as Bill's house, though she couldn't hear specific thoughts from that distance. At closer range, she was now able to move from head to head much more quickly and without becoming overwhelmed—just as she'd been doing with Jackson's team, who'd just finished the first main part of the project. She smiled at that knowledge and inserted herself into Jackson's head (he was the most visual broadcaster) so that she could "see" the work better.

It looked great!

Unfortunately, constant "jumping" between brains did tire Sookie out after about fifteen minutes, but she could feel when that fatigue was coming. She'd already discovered that she could "rest" to a certain extent by taking Eric's hand at such times. It was as if he could "shield her," so that she could "rest" her own shields. By "resting," she had already staved off a couple of potential migraines. Of course, Eric's inadvertent shielding was experimented with too, and the couple found that—even holding Eric's hand—Sookie could still hear others around her if she tried. In the end, they determined that the vampire was quite literally like a "mute" button for the telepath. However, she could "switch on the sound" without breaking her hold on him any time she wanted.

And that was a good thing for a variety of reasons, mostly because she liked it when they touched—indeed, she was liking it more and more each night—even if that touch was simply the holding of hands under the table.

Though the telepath had worried about all that she might hear once she opened herself up, Sookie hadn't found "listening" at Fangtasia to be that bad. Lust-filled thoughts had a certain "texture" to them, so—unless that kind of thought was also influenced by some kind of bad intention—Sookie could simply skip the minds which were focused only on lust, and—at Fangtasia—that meant a lot of minds! With Diantha's help, Sookie had also learned how to almost immediately recognize when a thought was laced with a bad intention; those thoughts were a little rough—almost like sandpaper in her mind.

During the night she'd listened at Fangtasia, Sookie had discovered around a dozen underage patrons, a cop who was out to score V for himself, two V dealers, a drainer, and several Fellowship members. Some of those Fellowship members fashioned themselves as "prayer warriors" who entered Fangtasia to quite literally sit in a corner, nurse ginger ales, and pray for the redemption of the fangbangers and the damnation of vampires.

Thalia had taken to hissing at these "warriors" when Sookie was safely tucked next to Eric in a booth.

The vampiress found sport in it.

Frankly, neither Sookie nor Eric minded the "prayer-warrior" kind of Fellowship parishioner. Sure—they were misguided, but Sookie could tell that their hearts weren't evil. On the other hand, a few hardcore Fellowship members had entered the club to do reconnaissance. They were glamoured for more information and then followed.

Ironically, Sookie had found more "crime" in the heads of Eric's business associates, though that wrongdoing wasn't geared toward the vampire himself. It was targeted at their human clients and colleagues. They were too scared of Eric to try to swindle him.

Still, at Sookie's suggestion, the vampire had cut ties with the most crooked of his business associates. She worried that it was only a matter of time before the man was found out to be guilty of several crimes, and she didn't want Eric to be implicated in any way. The vampire agreed with her logic. In addition, anonymous tips were sent to the humans the crook had been stealing from—at Sookie's request, of course.

After her "listening" shifts, Eric had also been giving her brief lessons about the Supernatural world—often on the drive to or from Bon Temps. She still had a lot of work to do and a lot to learn, but—after the new year—Eric felt that she'd be ready to "open up business"—at least, for a few select clients, such as the vampires in Eric's area that wanted their own human colleagues or day-people "read" and Colonel Flood, who had already asked for Sookie's services to "secretly read" a few of his pack-members.

Yes, the training was going well, but it was the personal—the one-on-one—time that Sookie spent with Eric that she most treasured. She fell in love with him more every day, and she was ready to take their physical relationship to the next level. Indeed, her Christmas gift to him would make that desire pretty clear. She quickly jumped from mind to mind of the Were workers to check their progress and then blushed as she saw that one of them was working on the feature that would give Eric the biggest hint that she was ready to become more intimate with him.

"Now _that_ is an Eric blush," Tara accused playfully.

Sookie grinned, but didn't even try to deny the truth of the observation.

* * *

 **A/N: Well? What did you think? I know that this chapter had a lot of narration, but I wanted to get you caught up with what happened between Mr. Cataliades's visit (on the previous Monday) and Christmas Eve (a Friday). But I didn't want to write whole chapters about those events. I hope that everything makes sense as Sookie considers the jampacked week she'd just had. Please consider reviewing if you have the time and the inclination. I always love hearing what you have to say.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**

 **Thanks to everyone who has already favorited and followed this story! And an extra thanks to those who give me a bit of your time by making a comment. I appreciate it!**


	3. Chapter 3: Big Boss Man

**Chapter 03: Big Boss Man**

 **DECEMBER 25, 3:00 a.m. (the Philippines, about 25 kilometers southeast of Manilla)**

Bill had performed the chore of checking in with Datu, the tedious king of the Philippines—while the glamoured cab driver waited for him—and now he was on his way to meet up with Appius Livius Ocella and his child, Alexei.

At least, Bill had been able to feed and fuck before he had left Datu's court, but he still shook his head at how long the check-in had taken. It wasn't as if there were a lot of "rules" for vampires that needed to be followed in the Philippines! Indeed, the king had very few restrictions for those who were willing to pay for any clean-up required. All Datu asked was that one of his minions be called—if a human was "killed through bite" or witnesses had "seen especially harsh acts." At that point, one of Datu's "assessors" would perform "the necessary services." And, of course, there was a hefty "service fee" attached to those services, the specific price depending on the amount of damage that had to be cleaned up and the number of human officials Datu had to pay for a cover-up.

Apparently, bribery worked even better than glamour did at insolating vampire actions in Datu's kingdom.

Ultimately, it seemed like just about anything went in Datu's kingdom—as long as the fall-out included the "greasing" of the appropriate hands. No—it should not have taken Datu long at all to explain the way things operated in the Philippines; however, the king enjoyed the sound of his own voice and was prone to long monologues of boastfulness and long explanations of the services the islands offered for those with "exotic and expensive tastes."

Of course, it was only vampires of substantial wealth, like Appius, who could afford what Datu called, "deluxe vacation packages."

The Southerner licked his lips in longing as he wondered what exactly Appius's "vacation" entailed. On that single thing, Datu had remained mostly vague, though he'd smiled like the Cheshire Cat as he'd spoken of Appius's "singular requests." Bill couldn't help but to hope that the elder vampire might "share" a bit of his "holiday."

"It is, after all, Christmas," Bill smirked to himself.

Of course, it would be gift enough to simply meet Eric Northman's maker; Bill felt more and more certain by the minute that Appius would be the harbinger of Eric's downfall, or—at the very least least—the key to the Viking's expulsion from Sookie's life.

Sadly, despite the exciting prospects involved in meeting Appius, Bill was still slightly irritated and anxious. His irritation stemmed from having to pay Datu a steep price to gain the information regarding Appius's whereabouts. Bill's apprehension came from the fact that Datu had made it seem as if Appius's stay in the Philippines would a substantial one; indeed, Datu had suggested that convincing Appius to leave the island nation before February would be quite unlikely!

And such a setback to his schedule would make Bill's plans much more complicated.

He frowned as he thought about how Hallow would likely react to the news of a delay. Of course, Bill, too, was impatient to remove Sookie from Eric. However, he knew that a vampire like Appius would likely have a very different concept of time—as well as what constituted a need for "immediate action."

Still—convincing Hallow to be patient might be difficult, and Bill needed Hallow to continue to be his ally. He was counting on her magic to—at least in part—help him to untangle Sookie from the emotional web of Eric Northman's manipulations of her feelings.

Bill recalled—with a twinge of distaste—the two nights he'd needed to spend with Hallow as she'd prepared and then conducted the spell to find Appius. Oh—it wasn't as if Hallow was hideous. Indeed—for a Were—she was actually an attractive woman—when her face wasn't screwed up in performing a spell. However, she just wasn't to Bill's taste, and she paled in comparison to Sookie Stackhouse—beginning with the paleness of the witch in comparison to the tanned telepath.

The two were opposites in other ways, too. While Sookie was a blonde, Hallow was a brunette. Sookie's eyes were blue crystals; Hallow's were obsidian orbs. Sookie had curves and flesh to hold onto during sex; Hallow was slender—almost too slender. Like other Weres, her body was a wall of muscles. And—of course—like other Weres, she smelled and tasted like an animal.

Sookie smelled and tasted sweet.

However, romancing the witch had been a necessary evil for Bill. There was consolation, however. One area in which Hallow compared favorably with Sookie was in the sexual arena. The witch was quite skilled. She was also less breakable than Sookie, so Bill had been able to be rougher than he'd allowed himself to be with his beloved.

Oh—he'd pushed Sookie as much as he could. He relished, for example, his memory of coming out of the dirt and ravaging Sookie over his grave when she'd thought him dead. In truth, that "dirty sex" had been a fantasy he'd had for himself and Sookie from their very first walk together. And he'd found a way to make it happen too! In truth, on the morning he'd left the Monroe nest, he _could_ have easily made it home to rest in the time it took for him to bury himself in the dirt. Instead, the vampire had decided to attempt to use a combination of dreams and his blood to "call" Sookie to him so that he could surprise her in the dirt and mud.

He'd had no idea that the Monroe nest would be set on fire by rednecks that day, but that happenstance had benefitted him—greatly. Sookie had been so upset that she had barely given a second thought to why he'd buried himself in the graveyard and how she'd happened to stumble "over" him, given the fact that the grave he'd dug had not been on the straightest path between Sookie's home and his own.

Yes—the Monroe vampires' true deaths had merely heightened Bill's fantasy as it became reality. Those deaths had ignited Sookie's desperation to find him—desperation that Bill himself helped to stoke through the tie. When she had found him, she'd told him about the vampires' deaths, and he'd pretended to "lose it"—as humans were so fond of saying. His "losing it" led Sookie to attempt to distract him through sex; at least, she'd thought that was her idea. Bill had been fueling her lust for him by then, "toying" with their blood tie, which had been recently amplified because of the second dosage of his life force he'd given to her before the Longshadow incident.

The vampire smiled. He looked forward to having a completed bond with Sookie; then he'd truly get to play with her emotions regarding him—though he was certain that she, too, would come to enjoy their games.

In the meantime, the interlude with Hallow (and other interludes he was sure would be necessary before he had Sookie back where she belonged) would just whet his thirst for the telepath.

"We here," the cab driver said in broken English.

Bill leaned forward and handed the man a hundred-dollar bill before catching the driver's eyes to glamour him to forget where he had been or whom he had been transporting.

The vampire quickly exited the car with his one duffle bag. Over the years, he'd learned to travel light when he was going into a situation with variables, and Appius Livius Ocella was a variable.

Would he aid Bill in making sure Eric suffered? Or would he try to hinder Bill?

Everything Bill had learned about Appius suggested that the former would be true.

However, there was only one way to find out for sure.

* * *

 **A FEW MINUTES EARLIER**

"Tomorrow night? Right, Papa?" Alexei entreated, speaking the endearment he only employed when he was sure that he was about to get _exactly_ what his heart desired.

The elder vampire chuckled indulgently. "Yes, child. Tomorrow night, we will travel by boat to our own personal playground."

Alexei licked his lips in anticipation. "I cannot wait! And I can do anything? Right?"

"For thirty-nine nights!" his maker grinned.

The younger vampire frowned. "But how will we make it so the humans cannot escape when we must sleep?"

"You are forgetting the witch's spell already?" Appius reminded.

"Ah, yes!" the boy giggled. "I am so excited that I did forget, Papa!"

Appius patted his youngest's head affectionately, even as he heard an automobile in the distance; he tensed slightly as soon as he heard the vehicle turn onto the road that led to his and Alexei's bungalow. The elder vampire inhaled deeply, immediately sensing that a vampire had entered the vicinity, but not one old enough to concern him. Moments later, Alexei's fangs clicked downward as he looked at the door of their dwelling.

"Shhh, my child," Appius soothed. "Whoever is visiting is no threat to us. And—if he tries to be—tell me what I will do."

"Kill him! Make him suffer!" Alexei declared with anticipatory glee. "May I help?"

Appius chuckled. " _Only_ if the vampire visiting us is a threat. Likely, he is simply an envoy of King Datu."

Alexei frowned. Clearly, the child had been hoping for battle—an appetizer to what was to come beginning the next night. Thus, a part of Appius also hoped that the visitor coming toward their rented abode was indeed a threat—if only so that he could indulge his child.

There was a knock at the door, even as Appius looked at his youngest child. "Good behavior, child—unless I say otherwise. Understand?"

Alexei pouted, but nodded in acquiescence, nonetheless.

"Good boy," he said, patting Alexei's head as he stood and went to the door. The sight that met his eyes when he opened it was in no way threatening. Indeed, he felt certain that he was looking at the least-threatening vampire who'd ever made it past his one-hundred and fortieth year—if his nose had accurately pegged the visiting vampire's age. Which it always did.

The nondescript vampire had brown hair with sideburns that belonged to both a particular time and a particular region of the world—the Southern United States. He wore khaki pants that had been carefully pressed and starched. An unremarkable, though not inexpensive, rust-colored Polo shirt was tucked into those pants. The outfit was accessorized by a brown belt, brown watch, and brown loafers—all of which looked to be from the same line of clothing.

"Are you Appius Livius Ocella?" the vampire inquired, his Southern U.S. accent confirming Appius's suspicions about the sideburns. He sneered. Hair was something that vampires _did_ have control over. And—although vampire bodies were dead—hair kept growing, albeit somewhat slowly, though it could not grow beyond the length at the time of turning. Fingernails were similar. In effect, if cut, hair or nails would "grow" to heal—just as all other vampire parts would "heal." However, the magic within vampire bodies deprioritized those processes; thus, a haircut could last for a week—maybe even two. And, most certainly, a vampire could shave his face and have it last the night! The hair of humans, of course, grew slower—as all human processes were slower due to the beings' inferiority.

As Appius took another look at the vampire in front of him, he felt certain that the man would have been better off _left_ as a human.

"You may call me Ocella," he said with a tone of warning. "Are you here to bring the final arrangements from King Datu—for my excursion with my child?"

"No," the vampire said, bowing slightly. "My name is Bill Compton, and I am from Louisiana—recently of Area 5."

That unexpected information caught Appius's interests. "Ah—my other vampire child is Sheriff of Area 5. Has he tasked you to bring me tidings? Or extra tributes?" he smirked. Indeed, Eric had made it a point to deposit a monthly sum into a Swiss account that totaled twenty percent of his income. The sum had been enough to help Appius keep up a very lavish lifestyle. Worrying over investments seemed quite pointless to Appius himself. Eric, however, had proven to be an excellent maker of money and had a sixth sense for investing in what would become profitable enterprises.

Many vampires—especially of the old traditions—demanded tributes from their offspring. Appius knew that Eric's punctuality and exactness with supplying his tribute—down to the fraction of a Euro (Appius's preferred currency these days)—was partly because he knew it would keep Appius away from his neck of the woods. The elder vampire liked the idea that Eric was anxious about being tardy with his tribute; that apprehension meant that he was forever on Eric's mind—forever a specter in it.

As Appius felt a good maker _should_ be.

He smiled to himself. His own maker may have demanded his two-hundred-year limit in the company of his children. And her command may have made it uncomfortable for him to be around Eric even for short periods of time since his _unofficial_ release of him, but Appius did enjoy knowing that his eldest remaining child was pensive that he might return at any given time.

And, of course, Eric had no idea that Appius could not simply call him back to his side full-time _and perpetually_. Indeed, the elder vampire would forever be amused that Eric worried that his maker could completely upend his existence.

"Perhaps, he sent _you_ as a tribute or sorts?" Appius purred suggestively, looking Bill over again. He was attractive enough. It was possible, though remotely, that Bill Compton had been sent for Appius's pleasure—as a kind of whipping boy. It would have been against Eric's nature to send such a creature, but—if he disliked a vampire enough (or found one who was fond enough of deviant behavior)—Eric just might send him to Appius.

"I am not a tribute," the younger vampire said with an annoying sense of affront that almost earned him a backhand. "I am here to share with you news of your child, Eric Northman. I am certain that—once you have heard me out—you may wish to travel immediately to Area 5, Louisiana."

"No!" Alexei hissed. He looked at Appius. "Father, tell him we will not go! Tell him we have plans here!"

"There, there," Appius soothed. "There is _nothing_ this vampire could say to us that would get in the way of our plans. Even if Eric has gotten himself into the kind of trouble that will kill him without my immediate help, we will not postpone our fun, little Lexi. I promise."

Alexei's face twisted immediately to joy. "Thank you, Father! Just do not let this vampire say mean things about us leaving."

"He will _not_ do that again, will he?" Appius asked, turning a harsh look toward Bill.

"No," Bill said with some discomfort in his voice. He looked at Alexei, who seemed poised to fly off the handle—violently—at any given moment. "I do not suggest that your plans be broken—as they are clearly vital. However, I would ask that you consider traveling to Louisiana _after_ your," he paused, "vacation here is over."

Appius took a seat, steepled his fingers, and leaned back, regarding Bill Compton closely. "Eric is at his day rest right now, so I am unable to feel him—beyond that he still exists. But I will say that I have felt some rather," he paused, "unsettling emotions from him over the past few months. Sit, Bill. Perhaps, you can tell me why my elder child has been so," he paused again, "worryingly pleased."

* * *

 **A/N: Hi all! Whenever I write Appius, I always have such "icky" feelings. For me, he's one of the "worst" characters I can imagine. I loved the** _ **SVM**_ **books up to a point; I really did. I think that the first moment I paused in my love was when CH had Eric try to justify Appius and his actions to a certain extent. In this story, I'm really trying to work out that problem that I had. The question I asked myself was simple: How can I make Appius evil incarnate if Eric still "admires" him in ways. For me, (in this story) the answer came down to the idea that—at some point during Eric's early vampire years—Appius must have commanded Eric to not harm him or cause him harm. With this in mind, I have been able to grapple with Eric's ambivalence toward Appius, while developing Appius's evil side. I see Appius as the worst kind of manipulator—the kind that only makes an effort to manipulate in order to amuse himself. And now Bill is in Appius's crosshairs. Do you have any pity for the Antebellum ass? I'm afraid I don't. I think that Bill was always trying to manipulate Sookie, and one of the directions I wanted this piece to go in was to have Appius do the same to Bill—only worse. Anyway, next time, Bill and Appius will continue their conversation—and it can't be good for Eric (and Sookie).**

 **Unfortunately, however, it will be two weeks before I can post again. I'm happy to say that I'll be visiting family over the Thanksgiving holiday! However, I won't be able to post next week because of that visiting. With that said, have a wonderful Thanksgiving if you celebrate. If not, have a wonderful two weeks! This story will return on Dec. 2.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	4. Chapter 4: Cotton Candy Land

**Chapter 04: Cotton Candy Land**

Eagerly, Bill sat down where Appius was motioning he do so. "I will tell you all that I know of Eric, Ocella. However, I wonder if I may ask you a question before I do."

Appius stared at Bill until the younger vampire shifted uncomfortably.

"I will allow your question, Bill Compton," he finally nodded.

"Thank you," Bill responded deferentially. "I have been led to believe that Eric's happiness is something that you would," he paused, "keep in check—if given the option."

Appius smiled sinisterly. "I admit that I trained Eric to spurn the kinds of emotions that would make him weak."

"Such as love?" Bill asked, his eyebrow lifting.

"A vampire does not love," Alexei chimed in mechanically, even though his attention was now mostly on a cartoon program on television.

"That is correct," Appius praised his younger child, still regarding the vampire before him. "Are you telling me, Mr. Compton, that my child loves?"

He nodded. "I am afraid so. And, please, call me Bill if you wish."

Appius contemplated for a moment. "Eric has always carried affection for the children he's made."

"Children?" Bill asked. "I know only of Pam."

Appius scoffed. "From the sound of her, she is inferior. I have not yet had the _pleasure_ of her acquaintance," he said sarcastically. "And I missed meeting Eric's first child as well—for she died not long after the turning." He shrugged.

"Pam _is_ an unpleasant sort of creature, and Eric indulges her," Bill said as he glanced at Alexei. "Not that indulgence is an inherently bad thing. However, it is not of a _child_ of Eric's that I wish to speak. It is a human—a mostly human—whom he claims to love."

"A human?" Appius scoffed. "Impossible. Surely even Eric would not be so _unnatural_ as to give his affection to a human."

Bill shrugged. "Perhaps you are right. I will admit that part of why I came here was to confirm my suspicions of Eric's feelings for the human. In truth, Eric might be lying. And—if he is—I could use that information to undermine his relationship with the human."

"Why would you care one way or the other?" Appius asked with curiosity.

"The woman is _mine_ ," Bill responded immediately. "Eric stole her from me."

Appius chuckled. "Surely, you are not here to ask me to recompense you for the thievery of a human! Isn't there a magister trolling around the mess you call a country? And isn't there a monarch? Sophie-Ann Leclerq if I am not mistaken. Why not take any issues you have about a human to them?"

"The queen is currently more in the mood to placate Eric than to do what is right according to vampire tradition," Bill commented.

"Ah—the ways of the vampire," Appius said with a nod. "They ought to be revered."

Bill nodded in agreement. "I have heard that you believe that—that you believe in the superiority of vampires above all creatures."

Appius nodded. "Yes. That fact is manifest. You said that the woman you believe my child is enamored with is _mostly_ human. What creature's blood makes her impure of nature? Surely not Were," he scoffed with disdain. "Surely, my child has not sunk so low for that!"

Bill shook his head. "The woman, Sookie, has some fairy blood."

"Fairy?" Alexei asked with interest, licking his lips. "I like fairy! Very much!"

"She is only a small amount fairy," Bill said quickly. "She tastes only a little sweeter than a normal human."

Alexei frowned and looked back at the television. "Why would my brother want to keep a human then?"

"Why indeed?" Appius asked.

"He has given Sookie his blood—on multiple occasions," Bill volunteered.

A deep frown immediately etched itself onto Appius's face. "Do you believe that he intends to bond with her? Or turn her?"

"I do not know for sure," Bill said, shaking his head. In truth, the younger vampire hated to even consider either prospect.

"I tried very hard to teach Eric not to become too attached to any _living_ creature," he emphasized. "Non-living creatures are different—as we are superior," he added, glancing at Alexei, who seemed focused on the television, though he could surely hear what was being said. "To have moderate affection for one's child is, of course, quite acceptable, especially if that child embraces what it means to be a vampire."

"Like I do, Papa," Alexei said with a self-satisfied grin, proving that he had been listening.

"Yes, you please me very much, little Lexi," Appius said, smiling at the boy. "It is your brother that has so often disappointed me."

"Eric," Alexei said with a sneer.

Appius turned his attention to Bill. "I have kept track of Eric enough to know that he shows too much respect to lesser creatures such as Weres."

"He allows Weres to guard Sookie—at her home—even now," Bill reported.

"Guard her? You mean to tell me that he has taken so much interest in her that he cares about her safety? Does she have any value beyond her sweetened blood?" he asked incredulously.

"She is a telepath," Bill relayed. "She can read the minds of humans and—to a lesser extent—the two-natured."

Appius considered Bill's words for a moment and shook his head. "The idea that Eric feels anything approaching affection for this mostly human is troubling to me—even if some value can be seen in her talent." He sneered. "Had Eric truly absorbed my training, he would not care anything about her! He would have forced a bond with this _Sookie_ immediately upon meeting her, making her his blood slave and harnessing her skill as his own. Had he done so, he could have kept her secured in one of his homes—without the need for mongrel guards! And he could have sated any lust he felt for her at will, rather than allowing it to develop into an emotion that weakened him," he added with a judgmental hiss.

Bill held in his anger and worry over Appius's words. Indeed, sometimes, he would still find himself wondering why Eric had not done what Appius was depicting. After all, Eric was a monster, just like his maker. Bill wondered if Eric was just biding his time, making sure that Sookie did not have any living Fae kin that would demand retribution if Eric made Sookie into his Renfield.

"You have seen them together—yes?" Appius asked.

Bill nodded.

"And does Eric demonstrate outward affection for her?"

Bill recalled the week before—that horrible night that he was last in Sookie's home—the night that she'd banished him from her home and her life.

After she'd uninvited him, Eric had come to her. He'd held her in his arms, comforting her. Had Bill not witnessed Eric's seemingly sincere care for her, he might not have believed it. But witness it he had.

"Perhaps Eric is manipulating her to believe he cares," Bill mused. "However, I have seen him show signs of outward affection for her—in front of other vampires."

Appius was silent for a moment. "Eric seems to be in great need of a refresher course in proper vampire behavior; however, it will have to wait until Alexei and I are finished in the Philippines."

Had Bill been a human, he would have shivered at the sight of Appius in that moment. The elder's eyes glowed with the idea of "teaching" Eric his own brand of vampire etiquette. In that moment, Bill felt very grateful for two things. One—that Appius Livius Ocella was not his maker and, therefore, had no power to command him. Two—that his own maker was no more.

Indeed, Appius— _Ocella_ —reminded Bill of Lorena, though the woman was certainly a much "tamer" version of Ocella. Both makers, however, clearly had an important character trait in common: they both enjoyed inflicting pain upon their children when they deemed it necessary.

"There is a witch in Louisiana who is allied with me," Bill ventured.

"A witch?" Appius asked. "What need does a vampire such as yourself have of such an ally?"

"Generally, none," Bill responded carefully, given Appius's clear distaste for creatures other than vampires. "However, the witch has an interest in Eric."

"Interest?" Appius asked.

"She wishes to encroach upon his territory and take a portion of his profits. She also wishes to become his lover and feed upon him."

Appius laughed out loud. "Oh, does she now?"

"Would it not be fitting—given how Eric has given his blood to a human—that he be made to give it to the witch, Hallow?"

Appius considered for a moment. "Such a thing _would_ be quite ironic. Is this witch you have allied yourself with powerful?"

"The most powerful I have encountered. She is also a Were and uses vampire blood to enhance her strength and magical power."

Appius scoffed. "Such a creature is an abomination."

"Making her an even more appealing tool with which to punish Eric?" Bill half-asked and half-suggested.

"Yes," Appius said with a sinister smile. "Perhaps this Hallow creature would be an appropriate tool for reminding Eric that mixing—in _any_ way—with lower beings is poor judgement."

The elder vampire seemed to be imagining many scenarios as his sick smile twisted even further upward. "Yes—a trip to the New World will be a nice diversion _after_ we are done here. Do you not think so, Alexei dear?"  
The younger vampire shrugged but then nodded. "Especially if you will punish my brother."

Appius chuckled. "Perhaps, you will be fond of him upon meeting him and wish for me to show him mercy."

Alexei shook his head, his eyes twitching as if he were insane.

"I admit that it will be fun to plan how to toy with Eric. It has been too long," Appius mused, more to himself than to Alexei or Bill.

"I ask only that Sookie not be physically harmed," Bill said. "She is mine, after all."

"You suffer from a fondness for this creature too?" Appius judged with a sneer.

"I wish to mold Sookie to fit my needs," Bill responded truthfully. "I will admit to enjoying," he paused, "certain qualities that she possesses. But—I will no longer tolerate her defiance. She will learn, however, to please me again," he added.

Appius smiled at Bill. "And do you plan to use your blood to mold her to your will?"

Bill nodded, even as he pushed back his shame. "She will come to understand that it is best that I do so."

Appius nodded approvingly at the younger vampire. Perhaps, he was not such a waste of space, after all. Perhaps he could be molded.

Appius leaned forward and brushed Bill Compton's cheek with the backs of his fingers. The younger vampire bristled a bit at his touch, even though Appius could sense a bit of lust in Bill's eyes.

Perhaps molding Bill Compton could be fun. Appius hadn't allowed himself "to sculpt such a project" since he'd turned Alexei.

Perhaps, with Alexei distracted by the decadence to come and the upcoming trip to America, Appius would have the time to devote to creating a "new child" of sorts—one that he might task with taking over Alexei's care after his two-hundred years as his direct "keeper" was up (thanks to his cunt of a maker's command). And—if Alexei associated Bill with the fun he was about to have—then his younger child would take to Bill even better.

Yes. Perhaps, Bill might serve a purpose, after all, and the weakness of character Appius sensed within the young vampire could ultimately be twisted—corrupted—into an advantage.

And Appius did so enjoy corrupting. Yes—Appius was certain that Bill Compton could be easily molded into exactly what Appius wished, in contrast to one such as Eric—who had resisted him to his very core.

And—if Bill was initially a bit "uncomfortable" as he was fashioned into Appius's asset? Well—that might be fun for Appius too. He stroked Bill's cheek again.

"I have things that I can teach you about vampire superiority. I have the means to help you to fully understand—in ways that you have not yet been able to imagine—how vampire-human relations _ought_ to be," Appius said almost seductively. "And I will help you in your quest to retake the woman you seek—as long as you vow that you will treat her as a human _pet_ ought to be treated."

"I admit that I," Bill stammered, "care for Sookie."

"After you have molded her to be an acceptable companion for you, then you will turn her," Appius said, almost as if he were glamouring Bill. "That way, you can keep her—control her for all time. And—in so doing—you would make her into a more perfect creature—one worthy of your care."

Bill nodded. "I had determined that I would turn her once. She'd," he growled, "taken Eric's blood and was thrown into a trunk where I was dead for the day. I was injured at the time," Bill added.

"A car trunk?" Appius chuckled. "Now that is a story you must tell me. But why did you not turn her if you had the occasion to do so. As well as the need for her blood?"

"Eric stopped me," Bill said bitterly.

"You despise my elder child, do you not?" Appius grinned.

Bill nodded in affirmation, though clearly somewhat reluctant to witness Appius's reaction.

The elder vampire simply stroked Bill's cheek again; this time, the younger man leaned a little into his touch. It was difficult for him not to, given the magnetism the elder vampire seemed to exude.

Appius smiled. Bill Compton would be so easily crafted—so pliant to his will.

Of course, there would be many bad habits for the vampire to overcome. It was no wonder that Bill was jealous of Eric, Appius thought. Clearly, Eric was a superior vampire in most ways.

 _Except_ that Eric had never truly embraced the mentality of the vampire as Appius had desired.

However, in all other ways, Eric had risen a magnificent vampire: beautiful, stronger than expected for a newborn, and with an inner strength that—if it had been applied as Appius had desired—would have made his child unstoppable!

Alas, Eric did not behave as Appius would have hoped.

And—as for Alexei—his potential had always been limited by his weakness and chronic illnesses as a human, as well as by the desperation involved in his turning. Indeed, Appius had likely turned Alexei when he was too far gone. Thus, he was unable to control himself as he may have otherwise; sadly, the boy would always need supervision.

But Appius had not been able to resist turning the young prince.

"I see great potential in you, Bill," Appius said, his voice still low and seductive.

"I am honored," Bill said sincerely.

"As well you should be. To be judged as worthy by one of my ilk is—indeed—a great distinction. "You will stay with Alexei and me until we travel to Louisiana together. Here, you will partake with us—learn to embrace that which ought to be unbridled in a vampire."

"But, Papa!" Alexei pouted. "I do not wish to share!"

"Hush, child," Appius said with a mixture of sternness and appeasement. "There will be plenty to go around. And—if there is not—I will arrange for more." He smiled at his child. "And would it not be nice to have another vampire in company as we play?"

Still pouting a little, Alexei shrugged. "You promise you will get more to hunt if we run out?"

"Yes."

"And we still get to stay for a month?" Alexei followed up.

"More than a month—remember? All the way from Christmas to February 1," Appius chuckled.

"Okay," Alexei said, pacified for the moment.

"I am grateful for the invitation to join you, Ocella. However, I cannot be . . . ."

Appius interrupted. "I am prepared to take you under my wing—to teach you what I know and to allow you decadence on a level you have never imagined. And I am prepared to help you get the woman you want afterwards—as well as toy with my elder child, which is also something you want to happen. I make these offers because I believe you could become a useful extension of me. But I will make these offers _only once_ ," he said firmly.

"And how long would I be under your wing?" Bill asked with some unease.

Appius chuckled heartily. "As long as our association is mutually beneficial—of course. Take a moment," the elder said gently. "But consider my offer carefully."

Bill nodded gratefully and did as Ocella suggested. To become the protégé of one such as Appius Livius Ocella could be of great benefit to him. Yet Bill had always teetered on the line between embracing his vampire self and feeling shame for his more violent tendencies. When he had succumbed to his baser instincts before, he'd always understood that Lorena was the cause. Now—perhaps for the first time—the choice of what kind of vampire he wished to be was his. Undoubtedly, having one such as Ocella as his ally—indeed, his protector—would be convenient. Never again would he have to fear the likes of Eric Northman or Sophie-Anne Leclerq, for they would know that he had a more powerful vampire than they at the ready to defend him. And—as an ambitious vampire—Bill had always felt like he was destined for some kind of greatness. Linking his existence to Ocella's would be a step in that direction. And—then—there was Sookie. Ocella had basically vowed to help Bill secure her. The elder vampire clearly had a disdain for humans—especially if emotion was involved. However, he had also supported Bill's plan to bring Sookie to his side—to mold her to become his perfect mate.

"May I keep Sookie as my human pet for several years before I turn her?" he asked aloud.

"You enjoy her warmth and blood," Appius said knowingly.

Bill nodded.

"Then keeping her warm and bleeding is not something I would prevent. Indeed, it would be your _right_ as her master."

"Her master," Bill said with a hint of a smile.

"You like the sound of that," Appius voiced, grinning conspiratorially.

Bill nodded, somewhat ashamedly. "Sookie would be mine?" he asked. "I—uh—would not have to share her?" he continued, glancing furtively at Alexei.

"I would never ask you to share her—if that is what you are getting at. However—if she is sweet—an occasional offer of a few drops to your _adoptive_ brother and myself would be welcome," Appius said, also with a glance at Alexei. "I would, of course, assure that nothing more than a bit of blood was taken from her on such occasions. And—as neither Alexei nor myself indulges in the weaker sex beyond feeding—there would be no worry on that account."

Again, Bill contemplated in silence for several moments. "I am in Sophie-Anne's retinue. That might complicate my traveling with you."

"She would not test me—if I asked for your _extended_ company," Appius smiled.

The room was quiet for a moment.

"I would be honored to become your protégé," Bill said with an air of finality.

"Excellent!" Appius clapped.

"I will need to make a few calls—to Hallow in order to ensure her patience and also to Andre, the queen's child."

"He is your confederate as well?" Appius asked with a smirk.

Bill nodded. "He wants control over Sookie—I think—for the queen. I am using Andre, and he believes that he is using me."

Appius smiled. "Yes—you do, indeed, have much potential. Now—you must tell me all about the plans you have already made."

Bill nodded. "May I ask what we will be doing for the next few weeks first, Ocella? You have alluded to what is to come, but my curiosity is peaked," he added, licking his lips.

Appius chuckled sinisterly. "There are many adventures for a vampire with the means and the audacity to enjoy them. Datu is especially accommodating."

"How so?" Bill asked eagerly.

"Some of the islands of the Philippines are practically untouched by time, the indigenous peoples living upon them shunning the trappings of the modern world. A few lack even such modern conveniences as telephone access. It is to one of those small islands that Alexei and I—and you—will go at nightfall tomorrow. A witch in Datu's employ will place a spell preventing all but vampires from going to or from the island until February 1. There is also a spell to protect our resting places there. We have been given leave to hunt upon this island." He sat forward and grinned maniacally. "Tell me—have you ever participated in the extinction of an entire people group?"

Bill shook his head, shaking in both anticipation and horror. Indeed, now that he was joining with Ocella, there would be no going back.

"There are six hundred and three humans to hunt," Appius shared. "We will stay concealed, hunting only half a dozen a night—to play with and to feed from. We will create a specter; we will be the bogeyman come to life. Soon, the island will be nothing but fear—terror that will compound when the humans discover that they cannot leave the island. Finally, on our last night, we will kill all who remain! We will bathe in blood every night—for 39 nights. And then we will burn all traces of the people we annihilate. Or—perhaps—we will leave one human alive, glamoured to have forgotten all the destruction that occurred—except for in his never-ceasing nightmares. Would it not be amusing to watch such a human go on—solely responsible for making the choice between staying on the tribal land or moving outward to breed and try to carry on something of his or her people. Oh—how amusing!" Appius laughed sinisterly.

Bill closed his eyes, a part of him wishing that the horror of Appius's description might be washed away from his mind.

A _small_ part of him.

"Do you still wish to join Alexei and myself?" Appius asked, almost tauntingly.

"Yes," Bill practically whimpered. "Very much."

"Good," the elder said, sincerely pleased. "Tell me—is 'William' your true given name?"

Bill nodded in confirmation.

"Then you will be my William," Appius said with a satisfied smile.

Again, Bill nodded. He could not help but to have doubts about the path he was now on. Yet he also could not control his excitement.

"Come, William, Alexei," Appius said, standing up and winking at Bill. "Datu promised an appetizer. There is a bungalow two kilometers from here that houses three humans, one of whom tried to swindle our hosting king. He has gifted us with them."

"Papa!" Alexei bounced up excitedly. "You said we would have to wait to eat until tomorrow!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise, little Lexi," Appius said fondly. "It is now Christmas, after all."

"Thank you!" Alexei said, embracing his maker. "And I will not even have to share—since there are three of us and three of them!"

"That is true," Appius smiled, pleased that Alexei seemed willing to accept William's presence. "Now—let us go and enjoy our first meal together—as a," he paused, " _family_."

* * *

 **A/N: First of all, I hope that you all have had a wonderful couple of weeks! I had a good visit with family, but then was greeted by a pile of work. Oh well—it never ends.**

 **I hope that you "enjoyed" the chapter. These three make a very disturbing grouping to write for. For me, they are the most twisted (as in mentally defective) trio in the** _ **SVM**_ **series. I think I am definitely influenced by Ericizmine's depiction of Alexei, too—so I really don't have any pity for him. As for Appius and Bill, they were both the worst kinds of predators in my book. Anyway, I promise that next week's chapter will take us back to Louisiana and will begin with an ERIC POV! So something to look forward to!**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	5. Chapter 5: It Won't Seem Like Christmas

**Chapter 05: It Won't Seem Like Christmas (Without You)**

Eric had hated going to rest in his own home that morning, a notion that was completely illogical, given the fact that he was not aware at all during the daylight hours, except for about forty minutes since he awoke before true dark due to his age.

Still, he missed being at Sookie's home when he succumbed to his death and missed it even more when he'd awoken from it. Actually—no—that wasn't quite accurate. He didn't miss being in her _home_. He missed being in her proximity.

As he finished packing a duffle bag with some more clothing to stow at Sookie's home, he thought about how quickly he'd adapted to practically cohabitating with Sookie; though the two hadn't discussed making that arrangement official yet, he trusted that they would— _and soon_.

In the meantime, he just hoped that he'd continue getting invitations to stay in her home during the daytime. Though the little cubby wasn't luxurious, Eric preferred the cramped space to his rather opulent bed, for—like all things in Sookie's home—the space smelled of her. It also seemed to have absorbed her spirit.

More to the point—now that he'd begun allowing himself to love, he found that being close to the object of that love gave him more peace than anything in his long life ever had.

He marveled at how quickly time seemed to be moving.

And at how much his life had changed in that quick, though short, time.

In the past, he'd been open to change, even embracing evolution to ensure that his life was more comfortable; however, _he_ had never changed. Rather, he'd adapted—ridden the waves of time, so to speak. But he'd never allowed those waves to alter him at his core.

His maker had not succeeded in truly changing him—though Appius had certainly tried.

Years of hiding what he was from most everyone around him had not altered him.

Becoming a maker had not fundamentally transformed him.

However, Sookie Stackhouse had succeeded where everyone and everything in his life had failed. And she'd succeeded because he let her—because he _wanted_ her to.

And with those fundamental changes, his night-to-night existence had altered as well.

He shook his head. It was just three weeks before that he'd visited Sookie regarding going to Jackson to find Compton. And it had been only a week since she had sent Compton packing for good; sadly, that stain on vampirism hadn't dared to defy Eric by returning to Area 5. No—he had skulked around New Orleans for a few nights before Andre sent him on an international trip related to the damnable database. Sophie-Anne still hadn't decided whether to actually market the database; the Viking's report to her had cautioned against it. However, since the queen hadn't made her final decision, she was content to let Bill scour the earth— _away_ from Louisiana—in order to gather information.

Eric liked the fact that Bill was _very_ far away from Sookie, but he didn't trust the younger vampire not to have some kind of machination in the works. He was too stupid—and, more dangerously, too obsessed—to simply accept defeat and move on.

Somehow, Bill had developed the belief that he was _entitled_ to Sookie, which was why Eric had sharpened his sword.

Indeed, he hoped to be able to use it soon.

Of course, now that Batanya was in place, Eric no longer feared that Bill could do any physical damage to Sookie, not that he'd ever doubted Thalia. However, the added element of the Britlingen had eased the Viking's worry considerably. He frowned, wondering if he should tell Sookie more about why he was so pleased with Batanya's presence. It was because the Britlingen had absolutely no allegiance toward him—no care of him beyond the fact that he helped to care for her charge. Thus, she would not hesitate to kill him—while Karin might—if Appius showed up and "did his worst."

For the thousandth time, the Viking wished that he could simply ask Karin to assassinate his maker. Why he could not be direct about such a preference, however, was no mystery to him. He could still "feel" the power of a thousand-year-old command that Appius had given to him. "I command that you never harm me or task another with doing so or perform any plotting to that would lead to my demise."

Indeed, sometimes Eric marveled at the fact that he'd been able to even present Appius's demise as a possibility that Karin _could_ choose—if _she_ wished it. As for himself, the Viking couldn't even bring himself to _want_ Appius dead—though he wondered how much of that was an effect of the commands he'd been given. After all, Eric had always known that the world would be a far better place without those _like_ his maker in it; he just couldn't bring himself to add his maker _specifically_ to the list. Indeed, he felt ill whenever his thoughts led him in the direction of Appius's demise, and he had only managed to overcome that discomfort as much as he had because of the potential harm Appius could bring to Sookie.

"Which I will _not_ allow; I'll kill Appius before I let that happen!" he said fiercely, even as he doubled over in pain and then sunk to his knees due to his momentary "rebellion" against his maker. It took the Viking several moments to gather himself enough to finish dressing, even as he tried to eliminate thoughts of Appius from his mind.

"I have done all I can do in regards to him," he spoke to himself in the mirror, confident in the truth of his words. He truly might not be able to harm his maker, but he had been able to ensure that he _himself_ would be harmed if his maker decided to use him as a weapon. "Appius does not deserve the ability to taint this night," he said to his reflection—giving himself a kind of pep talk.

And—indeed—it was a special night. It was, after all, his first time to celebrate Christmas in many ways, and the excitement that he felt from Sookie through their blood tie was more than enough to offset any dark thoughts. He saw himself smiling as he thought about how excited his beloved was to host a holiday celebration for her family and friends.

And him.

 _More_ than a friend.

 _Different_ from family—at least, for the time being.

That thought—the thought of Sookie and him becoming "family" in a permanent way—warmed him in a way he'd never believed that a vampire could be warmed. A vampire's life was "cold," after all—just as cold as his "dead" skin.

"But not cold at all with Sookie," he said to himself as he took off his shirt to change it. He'd initially put on a black shirt to go with his dark blue jeans. But he opted to exchange it for a green sweater, knowing that the most important being in his life would like that color better since it fit with the holiday.

Of course—in "not" celebrating Christmas—Eric _had_ "celebrated" it by giving his child, who had been a Roman Catholic during her human life, gifts. Moreover, when Pam decided to tease him about being "Scrooge," he would accept any gift she gave to him. But he'd never "felt" the holiday before. He'd never been anxious to give a gift before.

But he was excited—like a young child—that night, so much so that he'd spent the day in Shreveport (instead of at Sookie's home where he would have preferred to have been) so that he could pick up Sookie's gift and get to Bon Temps as soon as possible after sunset. With that in mind, he quickly took his bag to his garage, even as he texted Colonel Flood to be sure that all was ready with the puppy he was picking up for Sookie. Even though she knew a puppy was his gift to her, she had no idea what kind he'd opted for.

He opened the back of the SUV he'd decided to drive—due to his future companion—and took a silent inventory of everything he'd gotten for the animal; it turned out dogs required a lot more than he'd initially thought. He'd bought several dog beds, a plain leather collar (despite Pam's input that he ought to get a black, studded-leather one), a few leashes (again ignoring Pam's input), a sturdy harness (he'd also bought a pink one of those—with studs on it—for Pam as a Christmas gift), a travel crate, bowls, food, treats, toys, and grooming supplies (including lint brushes for human clothing).

Shedding—Eric had found over the centuries—was just a fact of life with canines. He shook his head and got into the vehicle after placing one of the dog beds, one designed with car travel in mind, in the middle seat section.

In addition to all the supplies, the vampire had arranged for the proper veterinary care for the animal. He'd also organized for Colonel Flood himself to visit Sookie once per week for training sessions. Given the fact that the Colonel had already been training the puppy and its litter mates in the kennel that he owned, the vampire figured that he was the best to continue the task, though Flood had assured him that the puppy already followed basic commands and was housebroken. Moreover, the Were had relayed that the breed of dogs he raised was very intelligent and would adapt quickly to Sookie's command style.

As soon as Eric felt the sun set fully, he opened his light-tight garage door. He had a party to get to, after all.

* * *

"Welcome, Pam!" Sookie enthused as she opened the door to Eric's younger child. She couldn't help but to look over the vampiress's shoulder—just in case Eric was with her.

Pam smirked as if knowing exactly what—who—the telepath was looking for. "I did bring another vampire with me, Sookie. But it's just Molly."

Sookie rolled her eyes before waving at Molly. The younger vampiress was dressed in what Sookie guessed was the "churched-up" version of Goth-wear. Everything she had on was black—but, instead of her normal black T-shirt, black jeans, and black jacket, she had on a black blouse, black flowy skirt, and black blazer. Her lips and fingernails were black, as usual, and she seemed to have put "all the smoke" available through cosmetics into her smoky eyes.

Having been in the house two nights before to work on the Internet connection, Molly bounced in, "Bubba here yet?" she asked, chomping gum.

Sookie kept meaning to ask how she could do that without getting sick.

"Yeah. He's hanging out with Jason and Tray in the living room," the telepath responded, though Molly was already on her way to that room.

"Thanks. I'm gonna help him open an email account," she informed, bouncing away.

"That should be amusing," Pam snarked as she moved to follow Molly. However, once inside, she stopped quickly, turning around to look at Sookie.

"Why does your home smell like," she sniffed deeply, "seven different Weres—not including your guards?"

"It's for a surprise—for Eric," Sookie said in a whisper.

Pam's eyebrow rose. "Eric will not suspect you of anything untoward with the Weres, Sookie. But unless you want for him to be distracted all evening long, you will need to show him your gift when he first arrives in order to explain the scents."

"No, she will not," Thalia said, somehow managing to sneak up on Pam, though Sookie had been following the older vampiress's path with her telepathy.

When Pam realized that she had been startled—and had shown it—while Sookie had remained placid, she scowled deeply, though she was equal parts pissed off at herself and amazed by the progress of the telepath. In less than a week "on the job," Sookie had managed to impress Eric's younger child, and that wasn't easy to do.

More than that—Pam was beginning to enjoy Sookie's company, beyond the fact that it offered much ammunition for teasing her maker.

Pam addressed the older vampiress. "You have known my maker even longer than I have."

"By centuries," Thalia concurred.

"Well—then you know that he will be curious about those unfamiliar Were scents. Moreover, he will be concerned," she added.

Thalia held up a vial. "Courtesy of the witch employed at Les Deux Poissons, the scent of the Weres will soon be covered up." She looked at Sookie. "Christa Larrabee wanted me to convey her apologies that the spell was not here sooner; the witch's potion was ready only an hour ago."

"Amelia's worth her weight in gold!" Sookie enthused. "It was always only a bonus to have it, and it beat Eric here anyway!" She turned toward Pam. "I knew havin' the workers here would mean that I couldn't really surprise Eric, and I had planned to show him right when he got here, but when I mentioned that to Christa yesterday, she came up with the idea of a covering spell, and Amelia put it together."

"It will work only for the Were scents made available to the witch," Thalia supplied. "And—even then—only for twenty-four hours. Let's just hope Herveaux took what was required from all of his workers so that the spell could be made properly."

"Blood?" Pam asked with an evil glint in her eyes.

"If only," Thalia responded. "A strand of hair sufficed."

Pam pouted. "The best spells require blood."

"Indeed," Thalia agreed.

Sookie shook her head at the two vampiresses. It seemed as if the two were blood-thirsty about everything. "Well—uh—alrighty then. Um—how does that thing work?" she asked, gesturing toward the vial. "Eric's due any time," she added with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

Thalia handed the vial to the telepath. "Go upstairs and uncork this there since it is the place where the Were scents will be most concentrated. Walk through each room the Weres visited and then bring the vial back to me. I'll then walk it around the yard where I can scent them. I'm afraid that some of the Were scent may linger out here, but if Eric questions the new scents, I will convey that there were different Long Tooth guards here from normal, given the holiday."

"Liar, liar pants on fire," Pam smirked.

Thalia looked at Pam with absolutely no expression on her face. "If there had been a battle today, Herveaux and his crew would have quickly become back-up soldiers. And they are Long Tooth. And they were here related to the holiday." She looked at Pam more pointedly. "One need never lie if one is clever enough with the truth."

The younger vampiress rolled her eyes. "I'm going to go see if that brother of yours is as delectable as Molly said," Pam said, showing a little fang before spinning on her heel before going inside.

"But you don't even like guys," Sookie muttered, even as Pam cackled in response.

With a chuckle of her own, Sookie nodded to Thalia respectfully and then entered the house as well. She thought about telling Pam not to do anything regarding Jason so as not to make waves between him and Onawa, but she stopped herself. Jason was a big boy, and his mind told her that he wanted to pursue something with Onawa—that for once in his life he wanted something beyond a night or two. Plus, if Pam's flirting could change that desire, then it would probably be best if Jason and Onawa didn't progress too much farther into a relationship.

Although Sookie didn't think for one second that anything that happened between Onawa and her brother would affect the shifter's work performance, she didn't want Onawa hurt either. She didn't want either of them hurt.

"Is there an amount of time I have to—uh—be in each room? And—uh—let this thing—uh—do its thing?" Sookie asked Thalia just before starting upstairs.

"About half a minute in each room should do," Thalia informed.

"Alright, be right back then," the telepath informed brightly. "Get a TrueBlood and join the others for a few minutes if you want!"

Thalia crossed her arms and stayed where she was.

"You should consider throwing her a bone; being social for a moment wouldn't kill you _again_ —after all," Pam said snidely as soon as she knew that Sookie was out of earshot. Eric's child had returned from the living room—after immediately recognizing that it was improbable that Jason Stackhouse's attention could be drawn from the shifter.

At least, not without bloodshed.

"My existence has only included one instance where throwing a bone was called for, and—trust me—there are better weapons," the elder said darkly.

Pam rolled her eyes. "Sookie is a worthy sort of human—worthy of friendship and maybe a bit of socializing."

"I trust her," Thalia said. "And I have agreed to turn her in case of emergency. That is," she paused, "worth much more than 'throwing a bone.'" She looked at the younger vampiress pointedly. "You—too—agreed to be her maker if the need is dire."

Pam nodded. "I did it for my maker." She looked at the staircase. "And because the telepath is," she paused, "growing on me."

Thalia scoffed. "She will make a horrible vampire!"

Pam looked at her in surprise. "I disagree. I think she will be remarkable as a vampire."

She reflected for a moment. "She will be _different_ as one of us," she emphasized. "But she is already different now—different from human, different from Fae."

Pam nodded. "It is what draws my maker to her."

Thalia did not feel the need to verbalize or otherwise indicate her agreement. "Sookie is embracing the use of her telepathy, and she no longer questions the need for her guards."

"I've noticed," Pam remarked. "I thought she'd have more resistance—given how she behaved during her initial introductions into the supernatural world."

"Did your maker tell you what happened to her in Jackson? In the trunk?" Thalia asked.

Pam growled. "I have inferred that Compton was seconds away from raping her, about a minute away from draining her, and likely ninety seconds away from being her maker."

"That is my knowledge of that night as well," Thalia said in a low voice. She looked at Pam pointedly. "You are lucky to have a maker you respect and love. You or I must always be close to her at night—when Eric is not—so that we ensure she does not end up with a monster as hers."

"Eric thinks Bill isn't done being a nuisance," Pam frowned.

"There are bigger nuisances. And—it is for that reason that I wish for you to find out all you can about the witch who is working at Les Deux Poissons."

Pam's eyebrow rose with her curiosity. "Why?"

"The spells she has concocted up to now have been relatively simple, but they are strong. With the right amount of specific training, she could learn to put together things that would benefit Sookie much more than a stasis spell or a temporary scent concealment."

"Such as?" Pam asked.

"Protective enchantments." Thalia looked around the property. "There is much land to cover here, and—though it would be difficult to get past even the day guards—a protection spell would be useful. Her quarters in the places where she travels for work would also be well-served by protective features."

"What do you think is going to come after her?" Pam laughed a little.

"Perhaps nothing," Thalia said, not really answering. Her tone, however, spoke of a level of threat that Pam wasn't certain applied to Sookie's situation.

"I know a little about the witch already," Pam said, instead of asking Thalia to justify why she felt Sookie might need additional layers of protection—beyond her current day and night guards, not to mention the Britlingen.

"So do I," Thalia smirked. "But I have not been _intimate_ with her."

Pam chuckled. "She _is_ easy on the eyes, and who was I to discourage her desire to experiment with women? And vampires?"

"Well?" Thalia asked.

Pam rolled her eyes. "I assume you aren't asking me how she was in bed."

Thalia shook her head.

"Fine. As soon as the witch moved to Area 5, Eric had me investigate her extensively. Amelia Broadway is the daughter of Copley Carmichael, a prominent New Orleans businessman. Her mother was something of a free spirit and an act of rebellion on Copley's part."

Thalia nodded. "Copley Carmichael is shady but effective in business, someone to be aligned with _only_ when he sees the benefits for himself—but not someone to count on for his loyalty."

"You seem to know a lot already," Pam huffed.

"I don't know what Miss Broadway thinks about her father," Thalia challenged.

Pam rolled her eyes. "Like many children, she dislikes the firm hand he has tried to take in molding her future," she relayed. "He wanted her to go to Law School or to get a business degree. He disapproves of her 'free-spirited' nature and blames his deceased wife for it. He's blamed her even more since Amelia legally changed her name from Carmichael to Broadway, her mother's maiden name. And he refuses to even consider the idea that Amelia is truly magical; he dismisses her every time she mentions witchcraft as being real."

"Do you know how Amelia's mother died?" Thalia asked. "Through research, I found an autopsy report, but it indicated undetermined causes."

Pam scoffed. "Matilde Broadway was a powerful natural witch—though completely untrained. Of course, that kind is usually fine as long as they allow themselves some kind of outlet. Most find that outlet in simple things—even _human_ things—such as gardening or making home remedies."

"Or an outlet finds them—in the form of a coven," Thalia added.

Pam nodded. "From what I have learned, Octavia Fant sensed Matilde not long after she came to New Orleans; Octavia began trying to help Matilde understand herself. However, by then, she was already with Copley. And—also by then—he had begun to regret his choice of her—over a debutante his parents had advocated. The addition of 'odd friends' into Matilde's life was met with," she paused, "judgment from Copley. Thus, she worked with Octavia in secret to learn something of her craft, and she had great natural skill. What Octavia did not know was that Matilde's motives for becoming her apprentice were not to _grow_ in her magic, but to learn how to rid herself of it."

"A dangerous objective," Thalia said softly. "And almost always a fatal one."

"That is what Octavia told Matilde. Yet to please her husband, she attempted to stifle her power anyway; as little as she understood it, that did not go well. By the time Matilde became pregnant—also to please her husband—she was already weak; however, she still attempted to perform a transfusion spell."

Thalia's eyes widened. "She wanted to pass any remaining magic into her unborn child."

The younger vampiress nodded. "The spell worked. But Amelia's mother was a shell of herself following Amelia's birth. She died when Amelia was only two years old; before she succumbed, she asked Octavia to look after Amelia when she came into her magic."

"Amelia knows of this?" Thalia asked.

"I learned most of what I told you from Octavia. However, Amelia has figured out enough to be bitter toward both her parents, though she is receptive to her own magic," Pam relayed.

Thalia nodded in understanding.

"Amelia lived in New Orleans up until three months ago. She refused college, but accepted her father's offer to run one of his apartment complexes. He figured that he could eventually manipulate her into having a role in other aspects of his business, but she was managing the place only for the free rent."

"Is that where Octavia sought her out?" Thalia asked.

"No—she approached the girl long before that. When Amelia was eleven, her power began to manifest. Octavia began teaching her then, going so far as having a vampire glamour the girl's nanny to bring her to Octavia's store once per week."

"That is good," Thalia remarked. "Octavia is known for her ability to train new witches to hone and control their ability, even as they respect it. Why is Miss Broadway not with her mentor now? Surely—even beginning to learn at a young age—she is still too young to have been cut loose."

"Octavia has temporarily expelled Amelia from her coven because Amelia performed an unsanctioned spell. The young witch is," Pam paused, "somewhat impetuous with magic, according to Octavia. However, the episode was not deemed problematic enough to prevent her from settling in Area 5."

"Octavia endorses the girl?" Thalia asked.

"Yes. Despite Amelia's flaws, Octavia believes her to be good at heart and potentially quite powerful."

"Why the expulsion then?" Thalia asked.

"It is more like," Pam paused, "a time out—to use a modern turn of phrase related to child rearing. Amelia's father was also pressuring her to do more for the family business, as well as threatening to kick her out of her rent-free apartment if she did not. Octavia is friendly with the owners of Les Deux Poissons. And they wished to have a witch join them in their work. Given the more exotic nature of some of their ingredients, Amelia's stasis spells have been quite helpful. Amelia is receiving her punishment, even as she gains some experience as a working witch; in addition, she is further out of her father's sphere of influence. Octavia believes the situation to be beneficial for all involved—except for Copley Carmichael, of course."

Thalia nodded. "I will contact the coven leader to see whether Amelia has the capability to safely perform protection spells. If done incorrectly, they can cause havoc."

"Why not just ask Octavia to do it?" Pam frowned.

"Older isn't always more powerful in terms of witches," Thalia remarked. "Octavia is wise and well-studied. However, her strength is more in craft than in natural skill." She inhaled deeply, even as the vampiresses heard Sookie nearing the staircase from above. "The originator of _that_ spell," she said pointing upward, "has a great deal more power than her mentor; thus, it is wise that Octavia is trying to curb her more foolhardy inclinations, even as she encourages her responsibility. If Octavia did the kind of protection spells I have in mind, then powerful people—such as those who might get around Maria-Star or myself—might also be able to arrange for countering magic."

"What of the Britlingen? As you know, human magic would have little effect on her. Why worry with her here?" Pam asked.

Thalia shook her head. "I am grateful for Batanya's presence, but I am operating as if she is not here. Complacence, I fear, would be the one thing that could lead to Sookie's demise. And I will not have that."

The vampiresses stopped speaking about witchcraft and threats as a smiling Sookie made her way downstairs.

"Do you have another brother, Sookie? Yours is broken; he seems to prefer a shifter to me!" Pam said as if horrified.

Sookie chuckled. "It's a Christmas party, Pam, not a hook-up place for you."

"Whatever," the younger vampiress said before turning to go back to the living room.

Sookie handed Thalia the vial. "I—uh—guess it's working?"

"It is," the vampiress confirmed as she took what seemed to be an empty vial from Sookie's hands.

"Do I need to take it into the living room?" Sookie asked.

"No need. The Weres did not enter any other room of the house," Thalia responded confidently before leaving the house without another word.

"Oh—uh—thanks!" Sookie yelled out even as she looked anxiously toward the road as if intuiting that Eric would be there any minute. On impulse, she decided to grab Gran's old shawl and step out onto the porch to wait for Eric. She closed her eyes and imagined the two of them joining the others together. She couldn't have explained in words why she felt that it was so _necessary_ to wait for him, but nothing felt more right in that moment.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi all! I don't have much time for a note today, but I hope y'all have had a good week! And I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please leave a comment if you have the time and the inclination.**

 **Until next week,**

 **Kat**


	6. Chapter 6: I'll Be Home for Christmas

**Chapter 06: I'll Be Home for Christmas**

 _Last Time_

 _The vampiresses stopped speaking about witchcraft and threats as a smiling Sookie made her way downstairs._

" _Do you have another brother, Sookie? Yours is broken; he seems to prefer a shifter to me!" Pam said as if horrified._

 _Sookie chuckled. "It's a Christmas party, Pam, not a hook-up place for you."_

" _Whatever," the younger vampiress said before turning to go back to the living room._

 _Sookie handed Thalia the vial. "I—uh—guess it's working?"_

" _It is," the vampiress confirmed as she took what seemed to be an empty vial from Sookie's hands._

" _Do I need to take it into the living room?" Sookie asked._

" _No need. The Weres did not enter any other room of the house," Thalia responded confidently before leaving the house without another word._

" _Oh—uh—thanks!" Sookie yelled out even as she looked anxiously toward the road as if intuiting that Eric would be there any minute. On impulse, she decided to grab Gran's old shawl and step out onto the porch to wait for Eric. She closed her eyes and imagined the two of them joining the others together. She couldn't have explained in words why she felt that it was so necessary to wait for him, but nothing felt more right in that moment._

* * *

Done with her task of adequately distributing the witch's spell—which was working even better than she'd imagined it would—Thalia turned to Sookie. The telepath was glad that the vampiress did not ask her why she'd chosen to venture out in the cold; she merely nodded to Sookie before moving toward the woods—where she seemed to feel most at home.

After taking a moment to wonder if she'd ever "crack the nut" that was Thalia, Sookie went to the old porch swing Grandpa Mitchell had put up for Gran. On that swing—which had been given as a gift of love from a husband to his wife—the telepath couldn't help but to think about the story Mr. Cataliades had told her about her family. She knew that it would take her a while to come to terms with the fact that Gran and Grandpa had both agreed to the arrangement with Fintan. It didn't matter that they'd had their memories altered after the fact either; what mattered was that they'd traded Gran's fidelity for children.

She shook her head; she'd already spent quite a bit of time thinking about that impossible choice for her grandparents. Back during the time period when they'd been in their 20s, adoption would have been seen differently and—perhaps—wouldn't have been as easy to do in some ways. Still, Sookie wondered why her grandparents hadn't pursued that option. She touched her own belly, wondering if Gran had chosen what she did because she'd so fervently longed to actually _carry_ a child.

"I'll never know," Sookie said to herself, even as she knew that her words counted for both the mysteries Gran left behind as well as for her own situation. During the last week, as she'd been contemplating what her grandparents had done to have children, she had become even more certain that she did _not_ desire to give birth to children of her own.

Yes—that had something to do with the fact that she could now imagine only one father for them, and that man could not impregnate her. However, unlike in Gran's time, artificial insemination could enable her to feel all the parts of motherhood without ever being unfaithful to the man of her heart. Of course, there was adoption, too. And Sookie had opted to leave the door open when it came to that last option; after all, if she ever ran across a telepathic child that needed her help and had no one else, then she _would_ definitely step in. She could even see herself adopting or acting as a foster parent for two-natured children, who had no other home to call their own. However, she had realized that she was not in a stage of her life when she would seek out motherhood.

It just wasn't practical. And—hearing the minds of the two-natured guards both inside her home enjoying themselves and outside patrolling the perimeter of her property—she also knew that it wasn't safe for a child either.

She sighed and took her hand off of her belly, pulling the shawl more closely around her shoulders.

When she thought about becoming a mother, she returned again and again to a contemplation of her own telepathy. Simply put—though she'd been coming to terms with her own gift—she didn't want to pass it along to any biological child. Also, she felt that having a mind-reading parent would somehow steal something from a "normal" child. He or she might be so self-conscious about being "overheard" that he or she might not be able to formulate an authentic identity.

Plus, there _would_ be ever-present danger in her life. Sookie had made the choice to "come out" as a telepath. But any child she had wouldn't even have the option of anonymity. A telepathic child would be shackled to guards for his or her entire life. And a "more human" child—including an adopted one—would be vulnerable to being made a pawn. She found neither idea acceptable.

Yes—she was coming to terms with just how far Gran had gone for motherhood; however, she'd also come to understand that she wasn't like her grandmother—at least not in that way.

As she felt certainty in that decision warm her mind even better than the shawl was warming her body, she "heard" Eric's void come into her range. A smile widening her lips, she stood and went to the porch steps. Only a few moments later, an SUV rumbled up the driveway, and even before it seemed possible to have stopped and parked the vehicle, Eric was standing in front of her.

He took a moment to take her in. She was wearing a cranberry sweater-dress that fit her curves just right, black tights, and soft black UGG boots.

"You look beautiful tonight," Eric said somewhat huskily before taking her into his arms and then giving her a kiss that was the perfect mixture of hard and soft.

It seemed like a promise of what was to come. At least, the telepath hoped that it was.

When she was breathless, Eric stepped back from her.

"Merry Christmas," she smiled, taking him in. He'd opted for a V-neck sweater and jeans. The sweater—Christmas green in color—managed to find all the green in his blue eyes and draw it out, even in the dim glow of the porch light.

"Merry Christmas," the vampire grinned, his eyes lighting up with as much mischief as color in that moment. "I don't think your gift will wait."

The vampire felt Sookie's anticipation rocket upwards. "My puppy?" she asked. "But you said it wouldn't be here till tomorrow."

The vampire shrugged. "I know the gift isn't really a surprise, but I wanted to make it as much of one as I could—to bring the pup before you expected him."

The telepath grinned and giggled, even as a yelp was heard from the SUV. Taking her hand, Eric led her to the vehicle and opened the back door. Sitting up in a dog bed was the cutest puppy Sookie had ever seen.

"A German Shepherd!" she squealed, even as she stuck out her hand, palm down for the puppy to smell. Immediately, he licked her offered fingers, and she began to pet him.

"Come," Eric said. The puppy took the word as his permission to jump to the floor of the SUV before jumping out of the vehicle. "He's mostly German Shepherd," Eric informed. "He's a quarter wolf."

"Is that safe?" Sookie asked, even as she bent down to pet the head and ears of the puppy. Now that he was out of the vehicle, she could better appreciate just how pretty he was. While German Shepherds were often black and brown, the puppy in front of her was black and silver.

"Not for anyone who tries to harm you," Eric informed with a smirk. "But—to people he does not see as a threat—he will do no harm. Colonel Flood has bred this sort of dog for years, and he swears by their loyalty and intelligence. The crossbreeding also does away with many of the health issues full-blooded German shepherds may suffer in later life, though he suggested that you keep an eye on the animal's hip health past his tenth year or so." As Sookie continued petting the puppy, Eric continued, "Flood is going to come over from time to time to help you finish the pup's training. In the meantime, he already knows simple commands and is well-behaved. The Colonel believes that he will imprint upon you quickly, and—after that—he will be an extremely devoted companion to you."

"Imprint?" Sookie asked.

"He will _claim_ you," Eric said, his smirk reappearing and more mischievous than before.

"Claim—huh?" she chuckled, rising to stand.

"Basically. Yes. Once he decides that you are _his_ , he will protect you and love you above all others," he explained, though his expression had become more serious—much more meaningful.

Sookie reached up to cup his cheek before lifting herself up onto her tiptoes to lightly kiss him. After the gentle kiss, she sighed as she took in the look in his beautiful eyes. It was the look of a man who had already claimed her—a look of one who'd been claimed _by_ her as well.

"I love you, Eric Northman," she whispered.

"I love you, Sookie Stackhouse," he returned.

Just then, the puppy at Sookie's feet yelped, one of its ears rising as it picked up a sound from the tree line.

"Just a squirrel," Eric said when Sookie looked toward the woods.

She beamed as she bent down to pet the little dog. "He's perfect! Thank you!" she enthused before launching herself into Eric's arms. Her excitement seemed to transfer to the pup, and he yelped at Eric's feet as the vampire joyously spun Sookie around in circles.

"We told each other," she said a little breathlessly when he stopped their spinning. "We actually said _it_."

He nodded. They'd been indicating their love for each other since the Saturday before, but never so directly. "We did."

She giggled. "I didn't say it because you just brought me the cutest dog in the world either. Well—at least not _just_ because of that."

He chuckled. "That is good to know. I am glad you did say it, however—whatever the catalyst."

"I'm glad you said it too," she agreed. The two stared at each other for a moment, Sookie blushing a bit when she realized that she was still dangling from his neck, though his strong arms were helping to hold her up.

"Shall we join the others?" Eric asked when he felt Sookie shiver in his arms.

"Can he come inside?" Sookie asked, looking at the puppy.

"Of course. He is housebroken," Eric informed. "And—after I greet your guests—I will bring in his accessories and get him acquainted with them."

Eric felt a wave of displeasure from Sookie. "Or—perhaps—you wish to settle him in yourself?" the vampire asked, stating what he felt was the likely reason for her sudden mood alteration.

"Oh—no. Um—that's okay." she quickly said. "Actually, I think I'd like for us to do it together."

"Alright. But what is wrong?" he asked. "I felt your displeasure in the blood tie, Dearest One. I do not wish for you to be displeased on this night."

She shrugged and gave him an apologetic smile. "Nothing's wrong. It's just that—I have been thinking of the people inside as _our_ guests, not just mine. Maybe it's—uh—silly, especially since—um—Tara's my official cohost and all, but . . . ," she stammered before Eric interrupted her by drawing her quickly back into his arms for a searing kiss.

When she was breathless, he let her go. The puppy was staring up at them as if wondering what had left his new mistress panting.

"Not silly," he said huskily. "An honor."

Sookie smiled brightly and took his hand before leading him inside, the puppy shadowing her, his tail wagging happily.

* * *

 **FOUR HOURS LATER**

Sookie's cheeks and mouth were sore from all the smiling and laughing she'd been doing. In truth, it was difficult for her to imagine being much happier than she was in that moment.

"This was awesome, Sook," Jason said as he sat next to Sookie on the couch with his third piece of pie.

"I think Tara made that one," she said of the pumpkin pie on his plate.

Jason chortled. "Oh—ah—well the pie's all kinds of awesome, too, Sook. But I meant this," he said, using his fork to gesture to the people in the room.

Sookie nodded. "All that's missing is Gran," she sighed, feeling a little melancholy for the first time that night.

Jason set his empty plate down on the coffee table and put his arm around his sister's shoulder. "I hate how she went, Sook. I really do, but she taught us not to question things that have to do with the timing of God or the universe or—uh—whatever's—um—driving this place—uh planet. You know—the earth," he said with a shrug. He sighed loudly. "I know it was harder on you—finding her like you did—in the—uh—kitchen. And I wasn't there like I should have been after. But I'm here now, and I'm here to tell you that she'd be proud of what you've done—and not just with this party tonight. I'm talkin' about the choices you've been makin' to better your life. Your new job, your new man—well they're just a part of it." He looked at her closely. "It's the new look in your eyes—the look that says, 'I'm Sookie Stackhouse, and I'm a badass mind-reader and proud of it,'—that she'd be most proud of."

Sookie shook her head a little and frowned. "I don't know, Jase. She never much encouraged me to use my telepathy. She always said it was safer to hide it."

"Maybe she didn't encourage it, but I know she always thought you were destined for somethin' greater than slingin' beers at Merlotte's. And I know she'd be real happy that you're so—uh—you know—happy! And I know she wouldn't want you thinkin' about the past—not when you've got so much to look forward to," he added.

Sookie brushed a tear away and looked over at Eric, who was speaking with Bubba and Molly. She knew that he'd been keeping an eye on her as well, and she could see his discomfort and his concern at her tear. "I _do_ have a lot to look forward to," she said, catching Eric's eye.

"Speakin' of looking forward to stuff," Jason said slyly, "Onawa and me is gonna take off—okay?"

Sookie nodded, even as she shored up her shields so that she wouldn't be able to overhear the specifics of what Jason was looking forward to "taking off" of his new girlfriend that evening.

Just then, Tara and Tray came into the house, a little rosy from the chilly temperature. The puppy, whom Sookie had decided to name Shadow—after everyone weighed in with their suggestions after meeting the little pup—trailed them.

"Thanks for taking him out," Sookie smiled at her friends.

"No problem," Tara smiled, coming forward to give Sookie a quick hug. She continued in a low voice as Jason moved away to "collect" Onawa. "Thanks so much for letting me cohost Sookie," the brunette smiled. "The last few Christmases haven't seemed much like holidays. But this one has been amazing."

"A new tradition?" Sookie smiled.

"You bet!" Tara enthused.

Jason's exit seemed to spur the others to bid their farewells as well. Though Sookie didn't want to contemplate the "treats" Pam promised Bubba in his "stocking," which was waiting for him in the alleyway behind Fangtasia, she was happy to see Bubba looking so excited. He left with Molly, who had a date with a "cute geek," who was ready to escape from his family gathering. Willow caught a ride with Mustapha and Warren. And—after gathering up some leftovers—Tara and Tray left as well.

Sookie came in from helping Tara and Tray carry things out to Tara's car to find Pam and Eric cleaning up the kitchen at vampire speed.

Her eyes wide open because of the speed at which they were moving, Sookie asked, "Uh—do y'all need any help or anything?"

Pam's blur stopped for a moment. "We'll work faster if you _aren't_ helping—no offense."

"None taken," Sookie giggled before sitting down to watch the vampire "show." She noticed that Shadow sat next to her chair and then leaned his head against her leg. Sookie reached down to give him a pat, making sure to rub his ears as she'd already discovered he enjoyed.

Not three minutes later, Sookie marveled at her spotless kitchen. Indeed, the only dishes not cleaned, dried, and put away were those that had been brought over by Tara, and they had been washed and placed out of the way in a box—so that they could be returned to their owner.

"I see you and your little shadow enjoyed the show," Pam laughed. The name—Shadow—had been her suggestion, after seeing that the puppy was already trailing after Sookie closely within the first few minutes of meeting his new owner.

"Y'all could make a lot of money as maids," Sookie grinned.

"Well—I could pull off a French maid costume, but I don't know about that one," Pam said with some sass as she gestured toward her maker.

Eric chuckled and came over to pull Sookie up and into his arms. Shadow popped up as well, again proving the appropriateness of his name.

"I'll be outside," Pam said in a low voice.

Eric nodded.

"Outside?" Sookie asked.

"There are only a few Weres here tonight—because of the holiday," Eric relayed.

"I'll just be staying until Bubba returns. After that, I have my own feast to get to," Pam said with a smirk. "It's a buffet really: a blonde, a brunette, and two redheads."

Sookie shook her head. "TMI Pam. But—uh—thanks so much for coming. And for helping with the dishes. And for staying. I feel bad about you going outside though."

Pam snorted and looked at Eric significantly. "I think you two would probably appreciate a bit of privacy, and don't worry about the dishes. Eric's promised to do the Fangtasia schedule for the next month."

Sookie went into the living room with Pam, and the two spent a couple of minutes thanking each other and complimenting their exchanged Christmas gifts as Eric went outside to get the rest of Shadow's accessories. So far, only his food and water bowls had been set up—with Sookie deciding to put them on the mud porch.

Eric passed Pam as she was leaving the house.

"I was skeptical of her—especially her and you as a couple," the vampiress said in a low voice.

"I know," Eric said.

"I'm not anymore—not after watching her work this week and watching you with her tonight," she added.

"I know," he repeated significantly.

"You found a family," Pam said somewhat dumbfoundedly.

"You have too," he chuckled.

Pam rolled her eyes and progressed to her car to stow her gift from Sookie—a beautiful pink cashmere sweater. Eric chuckled as he noticed that Pam was changing her shoes before beginning guard duty—from her brand-new Manolo Blahniks to _last year's_ Jimmy Choos. He noted that they still matched her outfit.

The Viking entered the house to find Sookie sitting on the floor in front of the fire, Shadow's head in her lap.

"I don't know how I feel about the competition for your affection," the vampire chuckled.

"You think there's competition?" she asked playfully as she scratched the puppy's ears.

Eric chuckled a little louder. "Maybe. So—are you going to _finally_ clue me in about why Pam physically stopped me from going upstairs earlier and why I can smell magic in the house?" he asked teasingly.

Sookie chuckled and shook her head. "I should have thought about you smelling the magic. It's bein' used to cover up other scents, but—of course—you smelled it."

The vampire's eyebrow lifted. "And what scents is it covering?"

"Your Christmas gift," she said, biting her lip a little. "Let's get Shadow settled down here, and then I'll show you."

Eric nodded. "I put his travel crate on the mud porch. I got several beds, thinking you'd want to use them in various places."

Sookie nodded. "Let's put one in the living room. I'll take him out one last time and then make sure he remembers where his water is. Will you put out the fire?"

Again, the vampire nodded as Sookie stood, Shadow following right behind. She paused as she passed the vampire and rose up to kiss his cheek before offering him a shy smile.

"I'm sure I'll like my gift," Eric said, sensing Sookie's apprehension.

"I hope so," the telepath smiled up at him before leading Shadow to the door.

* * *

 **A/N: I had no idea that this section of the story would actually correspond to Christmas time. LOL. Anyway, I hope you liked this little family snapshot, as well as Eric and Sookie's exchanged words of love. Despite the relatively short timeline of this story (and the fact that Sookie's relationship with Bill ended only a couple of weeks earlier), I wanted this moment to feel authentic—not forced or "too soon."**

 **I hope I succeeded.**

 **Anyway, please leave me a comment if you have the time and/or inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	7. Chapter 7: A House That Has Everything

**Chapter 07: A House That Has Everything**

Five minutes later, Sookie was looking down at Shadow with sadness. "You think he'll be okay down here? I mean—there will be some nights when I'll want him upstairs, but he'll need to be down here sometimes, too."

Eric looked at her curiously, but did not ask _why_ that night was one of those "sometimes."

"He will be fine," the vampire assured. "Colonel Flood said that he's been sleeping on his own for a while; that's how he trains his puppies—so that they don't miss their litter mates so much once they go to their new homes. Plus, he has this," Eric said of the large toy in his hands. He bent down to give it to an exhausted looking Shadow.

"Okay," the telepath said reluctantly, bending down to pet the puppy one last time. "Stay, Shadow," she said, using one of the commands Eric had told her that the puppy already knew.

For his part, Shadow looking perfectly content in his large plush dog bed. Of course, he would grow in to it—as he would grow to be a bit larger than a full-blooded German Shepherd.

Sookie took a deep breath and then rose to stand before taking Eric's hand. "Come on," she said, leading the way toward the stairs—where she abruptly stopped.

The vampire noted her increased heartrate—and her excitement.

Taking another deep breath and blushing a bit, she turned to him. "Go get the bag you brought, and then lock up—okay? After that, take a look around upstairs. Start with the guestroom, and then join me?"

The vampire was going to ask his beloved what she was up to, but—seeing the look in her eyes and feeling her determination and her love _for him_ through their blood tie—he simply nodded. She let go of his hand before starting up the stairs. Despite his anticipation, Eric intuited that he should take his time—and move at a human pace—so that's what he did.

Still, he had his duffle bag in hand and had checked all the doors within a couple of minutes. After checking on Shadow one last time and seeing that he was as dead-to-the-world as a vampire at high noon, Eric progressed upstairs. If his heart could have skipped a beat, it would have when he realized that the shower was running. He knew from the blood tie that Sookie was in that shower.

And she was awaiting something.

 _Someone_.

"Me," he whispered to himself.

Somehow, he quelled his desire to go to her immediately and—instead—went to the guestroom as she'd requested. Immediately, he saw that a special kind of sealer had been put around the edges of the door so that no light could filter into the room when the door was closed. He progressed into the room to find that light-tight shutters had been installed, replacing the quilts Sookie had been using as a makeshift protection against the sun. The vampire found himself touched by the gesture.

"She made her home safe for me," he whispered, even as he looked toward the closet where the cubby was. "No—she made it _comfortable_ for me," he corrected. It had—after all—already been safe for him.

He shook his head and went to place his bag onto the bed. There, he saw a note. It read simply: _Your other things are in the other bedroom—the right side of the dresser._

Somewhat confused, Eric kept his bag in his grasp and went to the master bedroom. He noticed the same kind of sealer around the door. And—upon opening the door—he noted a heavy black-out curtain secured to the side. Such a curtain was often used so that a human could safely pass from a light-tight space to other parts of a dwelling during the daytime—without risking harm to a vampire. However, there were more changes in the room, specifically the light-tight shutters that were in there as well.

"She made her _room_ safe for me," he whispered, going over to the chest of drawers. There were six altogether, and—as Sookie's note had indicated—the three on the right were clearly his. The few belongings he'd already brought to Sookie's were already in place.

"She made this _our_ room," he gasped, feeling a strong mixture of emotions for his beloved bubbling inside of him. Eric realized that the magic he'd smelled earlier must have been covering up the scents of the workers. And—in that moment—the vampire could no longer wait to join his woman. He'd stripped off his clothing before he even got to the ensuite bathroom. He could see renovations in that room as well, despite the fact that he was mostly zeroed in on Sookie's silhouette in the shower. He did note that the window now had light-tight shutters. The small, narrow tub had also been replaced with the largest tub that the space could accommodate. He could see that there were now two showerheads—one of a more traditional variety and another that was of the waterfall type; it was the latter that was currently on. The room had been retiled, and the vampire could smell new copper too, which meant that the pipes had been replaced. The slightly different scent of the magic in that room told him that it had been used to ensure that the tile and plumbing fixtures had already set.

Before the vampire could register his own movements, he was in the tub, standing behind his beautiful beloved.

They'd kissed— _a lot and quite fervently_ —since they'd officially begun "dating" the Sunday before. Indeed, they'd done more than kissing. Sookie had called it "making out like teenagers."

However, despite that "making out," as well as their previous encounter in Jackson after Sookie had been staked, this was the first time that Eric had been able to take in her entire glorious body. He growled out his desire, the noise causing goosebumps to leap upward onto her smooth flesh. The scent of her arousal caused another growl.

"I made sure that the showerhead was as high as they could make it," Sookie said softly as the vampire moved so that his front was flush against her back. She gasped and then moaned as his fingers moved along her arms, massaging her. "I didn't want you to have to duck in order to rinse your hair," she added, though these words were uttered at almost a pant.

"I have never had a better gift," he whispered before placing soft kisses upon her neck. "And I am not just speaking of all you have done to make your home safe and comfortable for me."

Eric leaned down to kiss Sookie's neck, even as one of his hands snaked slowly around her torso to begin massaging one of her breasts; as she began panting more noticeably, his other hand ventured to her lower lips, already moist from more than the shower.

"We haven't been together but for a blink of your time," Sookie gulped as his long fingers parted her—slowly exploring her without entering her. She managed to continue speaking, despite the fact that she felt that she might become a puddle of pleasure from his touch. "Eric," she moaned, "I don't like it when you're not here when I wake up. You don't have to stay all the time; I mean—I know you have your own homes and a life away from me—but I want you to know that you can stay whenever you like."

He stopped his touching in order to spin her to face him. He looked at her intensely for a moment. "Waking up tonight and going to my rest this morning were," he paused, "unpleasant for me. I wanted to be close to you—in _this_ home with _you_ ," he emphasized. "And—as for my life away from you? Well—if this week has shown us anything—it's that our lives can fit together pretty damned perfectly!"

She smiled up at him. "Merry Christmas, Eric. Welcome home," she added right before their lips came together. Their kiss was soft at first, tentative even. However, their hands were bold—Eric's moving back to explore Sookie's womanhood and her fingers curling around his cock.

"Sookie," he growled.

"Yes?" she asked with a growl of her own as one of his long fingers finally entered her.

He didn't answer her—didn't have anything to say other than her name again as he entered her with another finger.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, this time in pleasure as she continued stroking his eager cock.

Faster than she could comprehend, he had lifted her and put her back against some of her new tile, seemingly ready to test its soundness. However, he did not enter her, instead simply enjoying the feeling of his cock nestled against her folds. She gasped as it nudged her clit.

His forehead to hers, he spoke in a low tone, just on the edge of control. "Are you sure you are ready for sex, Dearest One? I can wait."

"I need to know if _you're_ ready," she said, turning the tables unexpectedly.

He raised an eyebrow, and she giggled at the seeming absurdity of her query. "Obviously, I can tell you are _ready_ ," she blushed, glancing down at his large, very-ready cock. "But you need to know that—once we do this—it changes things. We'll," she paused, "belong to each other—in a way that will go beyond blood or Supe rules or even those possessive feelings I know you have about things that are yours."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes still passion-filled, but also curious.

"Heart to heart, Eric. Soul to soul—at least that's what I believe," she said assuredly. "When Mr. Cataliades told us about how a fairy can sense her soulmate—her _Charmali_ —I wondered if it was you. And I've thought a lot about it this week. I believe it _is_ you, Eric. And I don't know much about fairy magic, but I sense that—once we make love—there will be no going back for either of us."

"Then let us go forward, min kära," he whispered. "I want to. Like you, I believe that we will never again wish to part from one another once we are joined. So you must be sure, too."

She shook her head. "There's no reason to wait, Eric. I know I love you, and I know I'm ready to make love with you. I'm also 99.999999% sure I want to bond with you."

"Sookie?" he questioned, his eyes widening with surprise. Though they'd talked about bonding several times, it had always been in the abstract—as if it was a step they would consider only after their relationship was beyond its "honeymoon" stage.

"I've thought about it a lot, Eric. And I don't want you to hold back from taking my blood. I'm not ready to complete the bond by taking your blood tonight—at least, I don't think I am. But I'm close enough to see it as fate kicking my ass if something happens and I need your blood."

"But Dearest," Eric said, "if you have _any_ doubts whatsoever . . . ."

She shook her head as she interrupted. "I don't—not really. I just don't want to tell you I want to bond—make that final decision—while your cock is inches away from filling me." She gave him a coy smile. "I know I'm of sound body right now. But I'm not sure anyone could possibly be of sound mind when they're in your arms."

He chuckled, and then put her down before turning off the shower.

He felt her disappointment immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, his eyes darkening with passionate intentions. "I just want you in a bed the first time I have you."

" _Our_ bed," she stated.

"Even better," he growled before taking her hand to lead her out of the shower. In a seeming whirlwind, he dried her and then himself.

And then—for a long moment—the two simply looked at each other as they stood on the new plush bathmat Sookie had splurged on to go with her newly remodeled bathroom.

For her part, she'd always compared Eric to a statue—something perfect that Michelangelo could have sculpted—something his vampirism would keep perfect for all time. However, looking at him nude— _really_ looking at _all_ of him for the first time—she was struck by just how much like a human man he looked. Oh—he was likely more magnificent than 99.999% of men in the world, but he was so real in that moment. So alive. And so—for lack of a better word— _imperfect_. For example, she'd never thought that he would have scars on his body. But he did.

For his part, Eric was focusing on Sookie's trembling body. He was appreciating the remarkable fact that her trembling was not because she was cold or frightened. No. She shook with anticipation and with an overwhelming mixture of feelings that he could sense through their blood tie. She was literally vibrating with her feelings, yet she was not afraid of them.

He couldn't help but to be amazed by her bravery. He was a thousand years old, yet he was still just learning to allow himself to "feel." She was so young, yet she already had the courage to risk her heart—for him. He vowed to be a good steward of that heart and knew that she was already shepherding his own un-beating organ.

"You have some freckles on your chest," she remarked as she reached out to trace them. Though her body still trembled, her hand was steady, her touch light.

"So do you," he smiled softly, even as he moved to pick her up into his arms—like a groom might pick up his bride.

He laid her onto the bed—right in the center of it. As soon as she raised her arms to him, Eric felt the man and the vampire war within him. He wanted to worship her. He wanted to devour her.

He'd please both sides of himself by doing both.

He lay down next to her, and she turned slightly to meet his kiss. Their lips had clear purpose—to communicate their affection and desire for one another, and they both moaned into their kiss. It was not long before he was on top of her, though he made sure that his weight wasn't uncomfortable for her—that it was just enough to enclose her in the safety he hoped to always provide for her. Her legs widened to welcome him. As they continued their kiss in an unhurried way, his cock was poised near her entrance—ready, but seemingly patient.

That is—it was until both Eric and Sookie lost their patience for a slow build-up—seemingly at the same time. His urgency was marked when he began kissing her neck—where he hoped to bite soon enough. However, he forced himself to have patience and moved his kisses downward until his mouth enveloped one of her ripe nipples.

Her urgency was given away by her fingernails, etching into his back, and her legs pulling him closer and wrapping around his ass.

"Gods, Sookie!" he murmured as he took the other nipple into his mouth.

She moaned her approval and arched into him.

"I need to taste you," he said, seemingly ready to take the attentions of his mouth lower.

"No! You need to fill me _right now_ ," she asserted, making her preference clear. "Taste later."

He chuckled. "I love it that you know _exactly_ what you want, lover."

"Are you ready to give it to me?" she asked playfully.

He dragged his cock along her lower lips until it brushed her clit.

"Ugh," she groaned inelegantly as she arched upward.

"Yes," he said, even as his eyes locked into her. "I'm ready." His intense, blue orbs were asking—one more time—for permission.

"Me too. I'm ready, too," she confirmed as he repositioned and slid home slowly, allowing her to become used to his length and thickness.

"Gods, you feel good!" he muttered as he began thrusting slowly. "A thousand years, and nothing has felt this good."

She gripped his shoulders, holding onto him, appreciating the fact that she hadn't needed to wait a thousand years to feel the kind of pleasure she was feeling now.

"Faster!" she ordered breathlessly, even as she felt something beginning to build within her—something that seemed liable to rip her apart. Still she wanted more of it.

He felt her passage squeeze around his cock, her internal muscles seemingly determined to drive him insane with pleasure. She truly did feel perfect around him. Not all women could accommodate his size, but she did. Not all women seemed able to keep up with him; he knew that she could.

"Perfect," he muttered as he quickened his pace again.

She held onto him—and then she met him stroke for stroke. He pushed into her, and she rose to meet him every time.

"Get ready," he whispered.

She angled her neck—ready for his bite, but it wasn't his bite that he was forewarning her of. He moved his hips slightly, changing the angle. And as soon as he had, he brushed her g-spot.

"Eric!" she yelled out as her orgasm approached.

He kept brushing against her internal nerves, even as he brought fingers down to circle her clit.

"Eric!" she yelled even louder as she felt her internal walls throbbing.

He felt them too.

His fangs popped down even as his balls drew up—building to fill her.

"Do it!" she entreated. "Bite!" She offered her neck again.

He couldn't resist her.

Even as his fangs entered her, both of their bodies convulsed in pleasure, their orgasms shaking them in unison.

Every instinct in her body—every atom, every molecule—seemed to call out for Sookie to bite him too—to take his blood as he was taking hers.

To take what was _hers_!

"Eric!" she cried out desperately.

He lifted his head from her small fang pricks; his eyes were dilated—rabid-looking.

"I want to drink from you," she entreated. "Please!"

For a moment, his eyes cleared. "It would complete the bond, Sookie. It would be permanent."

"It already is permanent, my _Charmali_ ," she said forcefully, calling him the fairy word for soul mate, even as she seemed to emanate magic in that moment, as if her mysterious spark might be ready to explode into a roaring fire.

"Fuck yeah, it is!" he agreed, no longer willing to wait another minute to do what everything instinct was telling him was the only thing that could ever make him feel complete.

"Bite!" he ordered, thrusting his chest forward. He was still trusting into her, careening toward a second powerful organism in as many minutes. As for her, she seemed to be in a constant state of orgasm. But that didn't stop her from leaning up—and biting hard with her blunt teeth. They were just strong enough to open a small wound in him.

Eric released his seed again, and he bit again, needing to be consuming her blood, even as she consumed his.

Consumed him.

He could feel his wound closing, but then felt his greedy woman bite again.

She needed more.

She could have all.

She already did.

* * *

 **A/N: I always feel the need to duck and cover after writing a love scene. They are probably the most difficult kind of scene for me to write because I don't want them to begin sounding too much like previous love scenes I've written. Anyway, this one is a bit different—hopefully—because this Eric and Sookie are different. They are—at least in my mind—meeting as equals here.**

 **I also hope that you enjoyed Sookie's present to Eric. I was playing off of the show's concept that Eric fixed up Sookie's home for her when she was in the Faerie realm. I found myself liking the idea that Sookie was able to make improvements on her own home because of the choices she's been making. I liked the idea that she was the one in charge of making her home into a place that was also Eric's.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed Sookie's gift.**

 **Speaking of gifts, I hope that you have a wonderful Christmas (if you celebrate). And—if you don't—then I hope you have blessings for whatever holiday(s) you do celebrate. Or—if you celebrate none—then just have a wonderful two weeks. Yes—I said two. I'm sorry to report that—after Christmas—I will be doing a bit of traveling to see some friends in Northern California and Oregon, and I won't be able to post on December 30. So—please have a safe and happy New Year! I hope to "see you" on the 6** **th** **.**

 **Meanwhile, please comment on this chapter if you have the time and the inclination.**

 **All the best to you as you finish up your 2018 and begin your 2019.**

 **XOXO,**

 **Kat**


	8. Chapter 8: Burning Love

**Chapter 08: Burning Love**

 _Last Time: "I want to drink from you," she entreated. "Please!"_

 _For a moment, his eyes cleared. "It would complete the bond, Sookie. It would be permanent."_

 _"It already is permanent, my Charmali," she said forcefully, calling him the fairy word for soul mate, even as she seemed to emanate magic in that moment, as if her mysterious spark might be ready to explode into a roaring fire._

 _"Fuck yeah, it is!" he agreed, no longer willing to wait another minute to do what everything instinct was telling him was the only thing that could ever make him feel complete._

 _"Bite!" he ordered, thrusting his chest forward. He was still trusting into her, careening toward a second powerful organism in as many minutes. As for her, she seemed to be in a constant state of orgasm. But that didn't stop her from leaning up—and biting hard with her blunt teeth. They were just strong enough to open a small wound in him._

 _Eric released his seed again, and he bit again, needing to be consuming her blood, even as she consumed his._

 _Consumed him._

 _He could feel his wound closing, but then felt his greedy woman bite again._

 _She needed more._

 _She could have all._

 _She already did._

* * *

"Oh my God—that was amazing!" Sookie gasped out. It had taken her several minutes to catch her breath—after her seemingly-constant orgasm had reached a final crescendo and then tapered off into a series of aftershocks.

"Yes," Eric agreed with a slight chuckle.

The two lay still and silent for a few moments—basking in finally having joined together completely. As her body calmed, Sookie was able to sense something new in her—something buzzing with life and love.

Something wonderful.

The bond.

She smiled as she let herself luxuriate in the new sensation. It was like a new organ had grown within her—part heart, part soul, and part primitive force. She could admit that she'd been a little afraid of forming the bond—afraid of what having a bond would feel like—but now she understood the blessing of it. For the first time in her life, she was able to feel someone else's love for her—to know that that love was unconditional. Her heart skipped a beat at the power of the love her vampire felt for her. However, underneath that love was an emotion she didn't care for as much.

"You're feeling anxious—uncertain about something," she said with a bit of concern as she recognized his feelings—as they thrummed from him to her.

He moved so that he could look her in the eyes more easily. "We bonded without having discussed it fully. And in the heat of the moment. I'm sorry; I felt," he paused, "compelled—like I could not stop myself. Do not fear," he rushed, as he felt her apprehension. "I do not mean to imply that I did not want to bond; I did. I am happy to have the bond—ecstatic. But I worry that you might," he paused again, "come to believe our actions rash."

The telepath considered her response for a moment. "It _was_ rushed—maybe. But I don't regret it, Eric. You're right; I wasn't 100% certain earlier. But then I suddenly was. And when I was, I _really_ was. I can't explain it. But I knew it was the right thing for us—the right thing for _me_. Maybe it was the fairy part of me; whatever I felt was . . . ." She paused for a moment. "Well—my Word-of-the Day calendar would call my feeling 'primordial'—instinctive." She shrugged. "And we had talked about it—talked enough so that I understood what I was getting myself into," she chuckled, nudging him a little.

"And what's that?" he asked playfully.

"Life," she smiled. "The _best_ life for me. That's with you, Eric. Always."

He pulled her closer and let her feel his happiness through their bond. And then he let himself bask in her happiness, enjoying the way their blood connection had blossomed from a bud into a flower.

"What's the difference? Between our tie and our bond—for you?" she asked curiously, as if his contemplations had filtered into her mind.

He considered for a moment. "Nothing and everything. All of your feelings are amplified for me. And I know that I could more easily send you feelings. But my influence would be different from a blood tie because you would feel me sending emotions and impulses, and you could also try to influence me."

"Try it," she requested.

The vampire nodded and then sent her a jolt of lust.

"Wow!" she gasped, a blush breaking out all over her body.

"Send it back," he challenged.

She took a moment to try to imagine how to do such a thing. Going by intuition, she focused on her attraction for the man next to her and then imagined wanting Eric to feel the same for her. She closed her eyes and felt something stirring in her—like a tingling sensation that emanated from the bond. No—a tickling sensation.

"Sookie," Eric groaned, his voice laced with desire. In a whirl, he moved them so that he was lying on his back and she was straddling him. She opened her eyes in surprise.

"It worked?" she asked coyly, even as she was hit with a strong feeling of lust from him. Her back arched as if he were using his hands and mouth to stimulate her, instead of just their bond.

"Again," she half-asked and half-begged.

"You too," he growled.

Biting her lip and nodding, she pushed lust toward him again, even as she received what he was sending. Overcome with desire, she rose up and took his cock in her hands before lining it up with her opening. She sank down onto him, and both telepath and vampire gasped in rapture—as their bond fueled their physical pleasure.

Neither spoke; neither could as Sookie rose and fell onto the vampire's cock, her walls fluttering around him already.

Soon—the lust they'd been feeding each other changed into rebounding bliss, ricocheting between them—within them.

Needing to feel more of her flesh against his own, Eric sat up—to meet Sookie's bouncing body chest to chest, and then he helped her movements, gripping her hips to rock them, even as he thrust upward to meet her.

She gripped his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. Her own were dilated with her pleasure. And, even as her orgasm was about to strike, she paused her movements, her eyes narrowing, like a lioness making a final study of her prey. And attack she did. As she slammed down upon his engorged member, she broke eye contact with him so that she could bite into his shoulder—her blunt teeth again doing the trick to open a small wound. She sucked hard, drawing in more of that which had already connected them with its unexplainable magic.

Her walls throbbed, and Eric's cock throbbed with them before exploding. He leaned forward to complete the blood exchange, but did not drink much. Instead, he focused on her enjoyment through their bond. He felt it as if it were his own.

He relished in it.

And—for a moment—her joy and pleasure were his. As much as she was his.

Leaning back after his wound had closed, Sookie looked at her lover, her eyes now clear, her lips stained with his blood.

Immediately focused on those lips, the vampire leaned forward to kiss her—to take back the bit of his blood that hadn't been swallowed—to save it for her. Only when she gasped for air—from his kiss and from their exertions—did he pull away.

"Sometimes breathing's overrated," Sookie panted.

The vampire chuckled. "I can agree to that."

She rolled her eyes but then looked at him sincerely. "Wow times ten!" she exclaimed, summing up their most recent love-making.

"Yes," he agreed with a laugh.

"I think I'm gonna like the bond," she smiled.

"I think I already do," he grinned back, even as he used his grace and strength—and a bit of his flying ability—to lift them out of bed.

He walked them toward the bathroom and didn't let her down as he turned on the shower.

Raising her eyebrow, she teased, "Didn't we already take a shower?"

"I forgot soap," he returned as he checked the temperature of the water.

"Oh well—we _are_ pretty dirty again," she shrugged playfully.

"Wanna get dirtier before we get clean, Miss Stackhouse?"

She didn't answer verbally. She simply sent him a burst of lust through their bond.

He got the message, and within moments he had them positioned under the gentle stream of the waterfall showerhead. He'd still not let her down onto her feet, but Sookie wasn't complaining.

After several minutes of heavy kissing—during which he had to break contact with her lips several times so that she could catch her breath as he gave attention to her cheeks, chin, and neck (not to mention her sensitive earlobe)—Eric felt Sookie's feelings in their bond morph from lust to love. The vampire gasped and broke their kiss—as if he were the one that needed to breathe this time.

"What is it?" Sookie asked with some concern, bringing her hand up to place her palm lovingly against his cheek.

"I'm still getting used to the feeling of your love for me," he responded honestly, moving their faces out of the water stream, though he made sure her body could still get the benefits of the warm water.

"You must have felt it before tonight," she blushed a little. "After all, you had the blood tie."

Eric nodded. "I _did_ feel your love. Having that feeling—the comfort of it—was one of the reasons I was hopeful that you'd choose to bond sooner rather than later. I wanted you to feel it too."

He looked down for a moment, seemingly focusing on the floor of the tub before raising his eyes up to hers again. "No one has ever felt my love like you do now, Sookie. No one has ever felt it because I have never given it. You awakened something in me that I didn't know was there."

"I'm glad it was me. I'm glad you saved your love for me," she said with a soft smile. "I know it's selfish of me—given that you had to wait so long to feel this kind of love. But I can't help but to believe that we are meant to be—that I was put here on this earth for you to find." She leaned up to kiss him briefly—gently. "I think the same is true of you—that you were on this earth for me to find."

Overcome with emotion for her, the vampire simply nodded in agreement and looked at her for several long moments.

"I feel what you feel," Sookie said with awe in her tone. "Neither of us could ever doubt our love—even if we wanted to. Not with the bond in place."

"I was worried—so worried—that you would believe that the emotions we felt for each other were created by the bond—that they were not real," the vampire admitted.

"I might have," Sookie answered honestly, "if I hadn't already embraced the Supernatural in me. Our bond is something out of a fairy tale, Eric, and if I still saw myself as only a human, I wouldn't have trusted it." She shook her head. "I hate to think about the torture I would have put myself—and you—through had I not opened my eyes to my whole self."

He smiled down at her. "I love your whole self, Sookie Stackhouse. I think a part of me always has—from the moment I first saw you."

"You're the only one who saw that whole me from the start, Eric," she said softly, "and I will never stop bein' grateful for that."

"And you saw the whole me, my _Charmali_. My soulmate. Sálufélagi minn."

"Sálufélagi," Sookie repeated. "Is that the word for 'soulmate' in your native language?"

He nodded.

"It's beautiful."

"You are beautiful, my Sookie."

She smiled up at him. "Thank you, Eric. Thank you for helping me to believe that—both inside and out."

He let her feel his own gratefulness—as well as his love—as he bent down to kiss her again.

She opened her mouth in welcome to him, and their tongues played together, even as their passion rose once more.

He moved them under the waterfall again and then raised her up slightly before lowering her onto his at-attention cock.

She broke their kiss to moan out her ecstasy. "Oh my, God, Eric! I'm so glad you're so strong," she gasped, even as their angle of love-making—definitely a first for her—enabled him to hit her g-spot perfectly.

"Don't forget my endurance, lover," he grinned as he changed his angle slightly and trust up and down a few times—almost at vampire speed. "And all of the other fun things I can do because I am vampire," he added with a grunt as her walls reacted to his ministrations by flexing around him.

"How could I?" she gasped.

He continued his movements—sometimes at human pace and other times at vampire speed—until she was quite literally shuttering around him in an almost tortured frenzy.

"Eric!" she yelled out, as the coil in her built up to an impossible level, though her vampire did not quite allow her to tumble over into bliss. She could tell that he—too—was at the edge of an orgasm, but that he was using his skills to stave it off for the both of them.

"Please!" she gasped, feeling as if she could not take the utter bliss for a moment longer. "Please! I need to cum!" she gasped—no, begged—feeling absolutely no embarrassment about using such language to tell him exactly what she needed.

The vampire gave into her pleas—as well as his own desire to cum—and sped up to a consistent rhythm. Within moments, they'd both come undone.

She shivered a little as she came down from her high. Patiently, he waited for her to recover, content to just hold her under the rainfall stream she'd had installed so that he would not have to stoop to shower.

Finally coherent again, she looked at him and chuckled. "I'm gonna have to get a bigger hot water heater. The water's gonna run cold soon."

"Well then," the vampire chuckled, finally putting her onto her feet, "we'd better go ahead and get to the soap part of this shower while the water's still warm."

She laughed and grabbed the shower sponge while he opened the body wash. They continued their teamwork—becoming distracted by each other's bodies only a few more times—before their cleaning was finally deemed as successful.

By then, the water had run cool.

* * *

 **APPIUS POV**

Across the world from the love-filled home that Eric and Sookie were sharing, an ancient vampire was waiting for sundown—even as he looked at the twisted-together bodies of William and Alexei. They were stained with the blood of the kills they'd enjoyed the night before—thanks to Datu, the vampire King of the Philippines. Soon, they would travel to their own private paradise and hunt to their hearts' content—obliterating a whole people group before they were done.

The gory sight in the bed was a beautiful one to Appius. It represented how vampires _should_ be.

However, the ancient was still disconcerted. Generally, he could not feel the particular emotions of his eldest child—not from across the planet. Oh—he always knew that Eric was still among the undead. And he'd been able to feel it when his child was in great pain. And—of course—when Appius had bothered to make the effort, he had been able to get a general sense of Eric's emotional state. That was how he knew that his child must be infatuated with the same human who'd warped William's emotions.

"She must have the snatch of a fucking barracuda," he said profanely, even as his mouth twisted into a frown. He'd never enjoyed the so-called fair sex. "The weak sex," he said judgmentally.

"And I will make _her_ pay for making _you_ the weak one, my boy," Appius sneered, thinking of the emotions he'd been practically hit over the head with since he'd arisen ten minutes earlier.

"You _will_ understand soon enough that love is a sickness," he spoke as if seeing Eric before him. "I will take the woman from you and give her to young William, who is obsessed with her. He will use her, break her, and then turn her. And you will be forced to watch as it happens, for I will command you to do nothing to stop it!" he chuckled sinisterly. "However, I will not break my promise to your brother; I will let Alexei have his fun here before I come to you. By then, you will have either outgrown your foolishness or it will be all the more satisfying to break you of it. And—of course—by then, William will be fully my minion," he smiled in satisfaction, looking at the vampire he'd honored by taking under his wing. William—for all of his bravado—was a born submissive. And a self-loathing one at that! Appius smiled. Oh—how he loved it that William was the perfect combination of ashamed and exuberant about the actions he'd participated in the night before—the violent debauchery that was the right of all vampires! Appius could not wait to see William sink even farther down the rabbit hole during the next month.

The ancient scoffed as another hit of Eric's _so-called_ love hit him. "So weak," he judged his eldest child. "But I will soon be there to make you strong again, my Eric."

* * *

 **A/N: Well, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! And I hope you all had a lovely New Year!**

 **In this chapter, I really wanted to deal with the differences between the acceptance of the bond for this Sookie vs. the one in the books. I always thought that Sookie couldn't accept the bond (or Eric) because she couldn't really accept herself as being Supernatural. A lot of the arc of this story so far has involved what would have happened if Sookie had accepted that she was not only human, but also something different, too. Indeed, I think that she is coming to understand what a lot of people (in general) tend to struggle with: that different is "normal." Anyway, I hope you liked it. Sorry I had to ruin the loving moment with an Appius bit at the end, but that's just the way the story flowed.**

 **Please leave a comment if you have the time and inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	9. Chapter 9: Wooden Heart

**Chapter 09: Wooden Heart**

 **STILL DECEMBER 25—4:00 A.M.**

 **MARK STONEBROOK POV**

"Calm down, Marn," Mark Stonebrook said, trying to soothe his high-strung sister.

She turned to glare at him. He knew what that look meant and rolled his eyes—though he made sure that she couldn't see him doing it. When she was in _this_ kind of mood, even he wasn't safe from her raw magic.

"Fine. _Hallow_ ," he placated, using the name she had begun to insist that even he call her.

"I trusted Bill Compton to bring the ancient! To bring me Eric Northman's maker so that I wouldn't have any issues controlling him!"

Mark sighed, wishing that his sister had never become so enamored with the idea of "taming" and controlling the thousand-year-old Viking Sheriff of Area 5. There were so many other vampires in the world—easier ones to control. But his sister had her heart set on Northman.

"What did Compton say?" he asked.

"That it will be early February before he is able to come here with Appius Livius Ocella, Eric's maker," she growled, her irises turning yellow.

"Why not just go through with your original plan then?" Mark asked somewhat hesitantly. "After all, we have a small coven already committed to traveling with us, a warehouse already rented in Bossier City, and a list of potential coven-mates in Area 5—as well as leverage points to use against any of them who initially resist your power," he said, adding the last part to stroke her ego.

'Only the Goddess herself knew how big that ego truly was!' Mark thought to himself.

Hallow scoffed and waved her hand away. "I wanted _more_ of a guarantee! Plus, I was hoping to get some of Eric's maker's blood out of the deal. Even a drop—given his age," she said covetously, "would increase my power tenfold."

"Perhaps, waiting would be better all the way around," Mark said cautiously. "After all, you've yet to get the heart's desire spell just right."

"True," Hallow sighed. "It's just that I want him—now!" she added childishly.

"And have him you shall," Mark placated. "What is another month, dear sister?"

She sighed but then shrugged. "You are right. The heart's desire spell is rough at this time. To use it on New Year's Eve—as I'd planned—would be premature."

"Speaking of the spell, you weren't serious about using it on Compton's obsession—were you?" Mark asked.

Hallow frowned. "If Bill is right that Eric is spending his time romancing the Stackhouse woman in order to manipulate her, I . . . ." She paused for a moment. "Well—I want his attention on me—only me! Perhaps, I will make up two batches of the potion—since I now have the time," she said sarcastically.

"What will it do again?" Mark asked. Of course, he knew well enough (having heard his sister's rantings about her "masterpiece spell" for more than a month), but "playing dumb" and letting his sister "lecture" to him for a while about one of the spells she'd created was just what the doctor ordered when she became frustrated.

Mark was well-practiced in placating her.

He'd always had to look out for her—make sure that she didn't act too rashly when things did not go precisely her way. If he wasn't there to stem her more "impatient" moments, accidents tended to happen. The accident that put their own uncle in a wheelchair when Hallow was only four years old, for example, was an event that Mark—as the older brother—blamed himself for. His and Hallow's parents—who were witches themselves (though not as powerful as either of their children)—had told him to keep his little sister calm. And he'd failed.

He would not fail his sister again—no matter how full of herself she got at times. And—of course—she deserved to be a bit full of herself. She was a tremendously gifted witch—with her greatest achievement being figuring out how to utilize vampire blood to increase her—and Mark's—power.

Hallow looked at her brother indulgently. "As I have told you before, brother, the basic spell is designed to take away a person's desire to do anything, but to be with his or her greatest love."

Mark nodded. "That is the already known spell—correct?"

"Yes. I suppose I could simply make that basic spell for Bill—since he believes that the Stackhouse woman truly loves him."

"But what if she _doesn't_ actually love him?" Mark asked. "I mean—don't get me wrong—I enjoyed the little tastes of Compton's blood you shared with me, but he's a monumentally unlovable douche, if you ask me."

Hallow giggled. "He _is_ quite interminable in his rantings—isn't he? Yes—he _would_ grow _quite_ tedious if long interactions with him were needed. However, it was nice to have a vampire in my bed again."

Mark rolled his eyes, showing the movement to his sister this time. "Come on, Marn. Why do you have to talk about sex with me?"

Hallow giggled louder. "Sorry Marky Mark," she responded, calling him by the nickname he had hated ever since Mark Wahlberg had tried to have a singing career.

"Perhaps you're right—at least, about Bill exaggerating about Sookeh's devotion for him," she said, affecting the Southerner's exaggerated accent.

"I suppose," she continued, "that it _would_ be prudent to add at least one of the other elements that I developed to improve upon the basic spell."

"That is the element which will actually implant the person whom the victim of the spell with fixate upon?" Mark asked.

Hallow scowled at him. "I wouldn't exactly call the person a victim—if _I_ am the one being fixated upon, Brother."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Mark defended.

She tapped his cheek affectionately.

"I know." She sighed. "I am just tired, and I'd hoped to have Eric in my company within the week."

"I know," Mark responded softly.

"You're right—you know," Hallow admitted. "I suppose the Stackhouse woman _will_ be a victim of sorts to Bill—if I make her fixate upon him when she doesn't want that." She shrugged. "But—at least—she'll be out of my hair so that I can more easily stake my claim on Eric. Until I can unleash the spell upon him—that is," she smiled sinisterly. "Then his other pursuits won't matter to him. Only I will."

Mark didn't comment that he did—indeed—feel like this would make Eric Northman a victim of sorts. After all, the vampire's free will would be taken from him. And Hallow intended to take his fortune, his blood, and his body, too. Plus, Mark figured that his sister would eventually take Northman's undead existence—no matter how keen she seemed to be to "keep him!" He knew that his sister tended to tire of her playthings. Yes—considering the inevitable outcome for Eric Northman was almost enough to make Mark feel sorry for the vampire.

But he loved his sister too much to expect her to give up anything she desired—even if he didn't believe for a second that Eric Northman was actually Marnie's "heart's desire," no matter what she'd decided to call her "new" spell.

"Perhaps, once Northman's blood has made you more powerful, we can set our sights on getting his maker into our clutches in a more permanent way," he suggested.

Hallow frowned deeply. "The trick about placing a spell on a vampire is what will happen if it doesn't work—or if it cannot be released properly," she mused. "Risking it with Eric is," she paused, "already a daunting idea, which is why having his maker there to cover our asses—and force him to have the spell cast upon him—is ideal."

She shook her head. "I don't want to be anywhere near Eric if the spell should fail."

Mark shrugged. "Isn't that why you planned to have Marissa confront him at Fangtasia?"

Marissa was the fourth most powerful witch in their coven. She was also loyal and dependable. If Mark were in charge, there would have been no way that he would see Marissa as the expendable delivery system of the heart's desire spell. However, Hallow was insistent that the spell would only remain "attached" to a witch of considerable strength. And having that witch "booby-trapped" was—Mark had to admit—the best way to catch the Viking unawares.

"Yes," Hallow said with a nod. "But—as unlikely as the possibility seems—Eric might not immediately kill Marissa. And if he doesn't, then we will need an alternative plan." She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "I think I'm making the spell potent enough to affect Eric even if one of his vampire minions kills Marissa instead of him doing it. But I cannot be sure if it will work perfectly if he's not the one to kill her. Also, having a vampire available to glamour Marissa to do her job to the letter would be a help. I was hoping that—even if Bill couldn't bring me Eric's maker—he'd be able to do that for us."

"You think Marissa would mess things up?" Mark asked.

"She might unintentionally. After all, she wouldn't know she was a lamb for the slaughter."

"So she might try to run if her fear begins to outweigh her loyalty to you," Mark observed. He shook his head. "No—I believe she would go through with it—even if you told her that she was martyring herself."

"Best not to risk any sense of self-preservation overcoming her duty to me," Hallow sighed. "And I can't really use magic on her to make her do my bidding because that might very well interfere with the heart's desire spell."

She sighed deeply as she considered her options.

"So will we wait then?" Mark asked, somewhat hesitantly.

"Yes," Hallow said with resignation. "But if Bill doesn't come through by February—and I mean with flying colors—I'm going to drain him myself!"

"Perhaps we should do that anyway," Mark grinned. "He was quite tasty. Just the right age to provide a good high—though nothing too intense," he observed.

Hallow shrugged. "Yes. Sadly, his blood lacks enough potency to increase our power that much, but—you are right—he was good for a bit of a buzz. Speaking of which," she said with a smirk as she opened the little mini-fridge in the room she liked to called her "laboratory." She took out a little vial of blood.

"Would you care to share some of this with me, brother? We can call it a Christmas present."

"Merry Christmas indeed," Mark chuckled.

* * *

 **MEANWHILE**

 **THALIA POV**

Thalia enjoyed the hunt. She always had.

Even as a human, she'd been a better hunter than her brothers—much to her father's consternation and her mother's secret amusement.

Of course, bringing home more deer than her brothers did not stop her father from giving her to the first man who offered him what he deemed to be a fair bride-price.

In Thalia's case, that price had been three goats and an old, rickety cart.

The goats—she could understand. Her family raised them, and they were in need of fresh blood so that their small herd could stay strong. The cart, however, was the object that had always stayed in her memory. It had two wheels, both of them roughly made—misshapen. And it was also of an odd size: too large for one person to pull, yet too small for two. And it had no hitch, so an animal could not pull it either.

Thalia always wondered why her father hadn't asked for something _better_ to go along with the three goats. Indeed, she'd spent night after night during her early years as a vampire wondering how long it had taken before that godforsaken cart fell apart.

Truth be told—she'd always been bitter at her father for letting her go for too little.

" _Ten_ goats," she said to herself as she contemplated what _should_ have been her father's _lowest_ asking price. "Fucking idiot," she added, of the man who raised her—and made sure that she and her family had adequate food and shelter—but had never understood the worth of any of his daughters.

Thalia was made a vampire about five years after she went to her husband's home—not that they were ever married formally. Her husband had periods of violence—especially when he had a bad night at cards—however, most of the time, he was just coldhearted. Indeed, Thalia never even knew his name. He told her that she was to call him "Master." Because of Master's attentions, she became pregnant within a month of marriage. After a loss at cards to a rival, Master beat her up not long after her belly swelled, and she lost the child. Master didn't seem to care. But Thalia cared—about the lost child. She hated Master after that, but she also knew women in worse positions than her own.

At least, she had a mind that could imagine its way away from where she was trapped. And—when in a relatively pleasant mood—Master would tell her of places he'd traveled, for he had been a successful merchant before a fire ravaged the two ships he operated out of Venice. He opted to take the money he had left and open a butcher shop in Verona with his brother, who already lived there. Master found Thalia on his journey from Venice to Verona.

It had been interesting for Thalia to live in a city—given the fact that she'd never even seen one before. And though she had fantasized about killing Master anytime he hit her, she enjoyed helping at the butcher's shop. She'd learned much about bodies there—and how to hew them apart, without wasting a single piece.

That knowledge had come in very handy once she became a vampire.

And, after their first year of marriage, Master had allowed her to venture out of the town to hunt for deer. She liked the fact that he had great confidence in her skill—that he counted on the meat from her kills to add to the stores of the butcher shop. And he even invested in a much better cart than the one he'd given to her father, a cart that could be attached to a horse—so that Thalia could easily bring home her many kills.

Though she never hunted alone—always going with Master's brother, whom she'd learned was called Lorenzo—she still felt very free on a hunt. Indeed, Lorenzo had taken her as a lover on some of those hunts, and he was a much kinder man than Master.

Sadly, her maker had killed the kinder brother on the night he stumbled upon them in the woods. He killed Lorenzo, but he offered her a choice of whether to die like him or to die in a different way. Thalia had chosen the different way. And then she had learned a different kind of hunt.

Speaking of a hunt, Thalia stopped her current one and looked toward what most people would have thought was an uninhabited grove of trees just beyond the Compton estate.

"You _let_ me find you tonight," she said to the "prey" whom she'd tracked from the edge of Sookie Stackhouse's property to the small tree cluster.

"I did," her quarry responded.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all! I hope you had a nice week! And I hope you enjoyed this chapter. After the Eric/Sookie love of the previous two, I was wanting to get us "caught up" with some of the other characters. This is the first time I've really incorporated Mark Stonebrook into a story, but I thought it would be more interesting in some ways to tell a chunk of Hallow's story from his POV. I did try to write this from Hallow's POV at first, but she was actually sounding too much like Bill in my head. Ultimately, I scrapped about four pages of writing I didn't like and switched to Mark. I hope you liked the outcome. As for Thalia's backstory, I have to say that I always enjoy exploring Thalia as a character, and her backstory tends to change a bit with each story I write. In this one, I was focusing on this early kind of feminist streak for her—something she registers as always knowing her worth. Also, I wanted her backstory to help to explain why she's quite standoffish about developing relationships—or, at least, overt friendships. I hope you enjoyed the snippet.**

 **Now—for some bad news. I do have next week's chapter in shape to go next Sunday, this story might get paused for a bit after that. In truth, I didn't hit a block with it as much as I found a story I'd started several years ago and became excited to pursue that one. I know—I know. Why, Kat, are you even thinking about writing anything else when you still need to finish so many things? Almost every week, I get gentle pleas that I get back to work on** _ **The Gift Horse Series**_ **,** _ **Who's Your Daddy?**_ **,** _ **Earned**_ **, and** _ **From the Inside Out**_ **. The last of these, you might be interested to know, will likely be picked up pretty soon. I re-read the whole thing recently and actually outlined the remaining events I want to include. I also have beginnings of several other stories that I hope to eventually pick up. And the story I've been working on was one of them. It's called** _ **The Journey Itself**_ **, and I'm pretty excited about it. It's an all-human piece, so I know that some of you won't follow me to it. However, the good news is that it's about 90% drafted. My plan is to get it finished soon and then start revising and getting it to Kleannhouse to beta. Indeed, I have the Prologue ready to send her already. Once it's done, I'm hoping to offer it at two chapters per week and turn again to** _ **The Engine**_ **. Anyway, I hope that you will bear with me if I do have to hit the pause button on this story after next week.**

 **Please leave a comment about the chapter if you have the time and inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	10. Chapter 10: Do You Know Who I Am?

**Chapter 10: Do You Know Who I Am?**

 **THALIA POV, continued**

Karin stepped away from the trees so that Thalia could see her. What there was of the moon was obscured by clouds, but Thalia was still struck by the vampiress's beauty.

"Karin the Slaughterer. You have a reputation," she said with a respectful bow. Thalia could tell that she was older than the vampiress in front of her, but she had much respect for anyone who was a better hunter than she was. And Karin the Slaughterer was clearly one of the few.

"Thalia. You are well-known too," Karin said with a low bow of her own. "Tell me—has the Northman told you what my task is?"

"You are his shadow," Thalia commented.

"Has he explained _why_ that is?" Karin asked.

"He worries about Appius Livius Ocella," Thalia responded with a sneer.

Karin nodded. "I have a secret you should know. I am Eric Northman's first turned child."

Thalia raised an eyebrow, indicating her surprise. She inhaled deeply. "The magic you use to cover your scent is perfect. I can notice no similarity between you and your maker."

Karin stepped forward. "Do you think Appius would smell any resemblance?"

Thalia considered for a moment. "No. I do not think so. That is why you approached me? You are considering hunting him and wanted me to test your scent?"

Karin shook her head. "No. But it is good to know you cannot pick up any similarity."

The younger vampiress looked toward the moon and was silent for a moment. Thalia, too, said nothing, though she knew that Karin still had more to tell her. However, she knew that empty words would not hurry Eric's child along.

"My maker released me _fully_ , using magic to break all holds he had over me," Karin emphasized, "for he worried that Appius would come and use me to punish him—after Appius failed to make a child of his own. I did not understand at that time that Eric released me out of love—and because he wanted to keep us both safe. I spent many years resenting him for cutting me loose like he did—so irrevocably."

"Most makers never fully release their children," Thalia commented. "Or—if they do—it is a decision made only once a vampire has reached a certain age. It is a decision generally arrived at by both maker and child."

Karin nodded. "Yes. Yet I was released when I was not even 61 years vampire. To be honest, I had wanted to go out on my own by then—to explore and to make my own way. I'd yearned for independence."

"But that is _very_ different from a broken parent/child bond," Thalia commented.

Karin nodded. "It is. Our blood connection remains, of course. As long as my maker's blood is within me, we will always know of the existence of one another—and of _some_ of the feelings. It is somewhat like a blood tie with a human. However, our deeper connection was lost on the night that Eric felt Appius begin to draw closer to where he and I were traveling at the time. That night—I saw my maker afraid for the first time. Yet he did not want me by his side to fight beside him."

"Fighting with Appius would have killed you both," Thalia said.

"Tell that to the equivalent of a vampire adolescent," Karin said wryly.

Thalia let out a rare laugh; it was full of memories—of her own younger vampire years.

"So—why have you approached me?" Thalia asked.

"My reasons are fourfold. The first—and most important—involves the safety of your own charge."

"What must I know?" Thalia asked, all-business again.

"After my maker used magic to fully release me, I became Karin the Slaughterer. That is _not_ who I was before; it is not even my name. I took on the persona of Karin the Slaughterer, and I have become an assassin who is unmatched. Yet—even I know my limitations. I have often thought about sending my maker's maker to hell. Two things have stopped me."

Thalia raised her eyebrow in question.

"The first is that my maker never asked me to; indeed, at times, it seemed as if he had a grudging respect for Appius Livius Ocella. Even—a twisted sort of love. But I believe, now, that Eric is unable to do anything against his maker."

Thalia sneered. "A maker's command." She scoffed. "Only weak makers use such things to prevent their own children from harming them. Hell! If a maker fears his or her own child, he or she ought to have balls enough to kill the child!"

"Yes," Karin agreed. "But Appius was—is—incapable of gaining any _real_ respect or affection from his progeny," Karin added. "And, at long last, it is time for me to do something when my maker cannot."

"You said you had held back for _two_ reasons though," Thalia observed.

Karin nodded. "I have never taken a contract that I was not 100% certain I could execute, and the stakes are high. If I fail, Appius will either kill me or capture me, before counteracting the magic covering who I am. With either outcome, he _will_ smell Eric in me."

"Thus, if you fail, Appius would strike here—and likely target Sookie," Thalia observed.

"And Pam," Karin added. "It would be best if she had someone watching her back as well." She paused for a moment. "I approached you tonight, Thalia, because my actions in going after Appius might awaken a sleeping beast. And it will then be up to you to protect Sookie; moreover, I will no longer be there to eliminate Eric if he becomes a threat to your charge."

Thalia thought for a moment. "Why not leave things as they are—as the status quo?"

Karin sighed. "Because of what I felt tonight from my maker. Even through our limited blood connection, I was able to feel an intensity of joy that—quite literally—drew tears from my eyes. I believe my maker has completed a bond with Sookie Stackhouse."

Thalia looked surprised. "So soon? I'd expected that outcome—but not for several months."

Karin shook her head. "I can tell you only what I feel through what remains of our emotional connection. Pam likely felt the bond forming more fully, so you may wish to confirm my hypothesis with her. I can say only that for the last few hours, it has been as though my slight connection with my maker has an echo. Even from the other side of the earth, Appius will ultimately sense that echo as well, and—if he does—his curiosity will likely bring him here no matter what I do. At least, if I hunt him, I can set up a situation that will enable me to strike with the best chances of success."

Thalia nodded to acknowledge the wisdom of Karin's statement.

"Plus, my maker deserves happiness without any looming menace. As long as Appius is alive, he will forever be a threat—hovering in the back of Eric's mind."

"So gifting your maker with peace is the second reason why you act now," Thalia remarked.

"Yes. My third is selfish. I wish to settle down, to become _again_ the vampire I was before I had to flee from Eric's side and become someone who was _not_ his child so that Appius could never discover me. Karin is not my name. It is my profession. I would like to," she paused, "be what I _wish_ again. And I wish to be as I was born and turned." She shrugged. "I can always resume my role as Karin the Slaughterer if I wish."

Thalia nodded. "I can understand the need to establish roots. I roved for many years—until I found a place I wished to settle, and now I," she paused and glanced back in the direction of the telepath's home, though it was way too far for even her to see, "like my duties."

"Sookie Stackhouse is worth your talents?" Karin asked.

"I believe she is," Thalia responded. "She is my," she paused, "friend—not that I will ever allow her to know that."

Karin smirked a bit and then resumed her serious countenance. "So, Thalia, you needed to know that Appius will likely be coming soon if I fail. And you needed to know that he will likely be curious regardless—if he feels Eric's joy even half as much as I do. Indeed, "joy" is not an adequate enough word. I do not believe there is an adequate one."

"It is odd that—the more languages one knows—the more likely one is to see gaps in them all," Thalia remarked.

"True," Karin said with another small smirk. "And—now—for the fourth reason I approached you. Even from here, I can smell the usage of some truly lovely magic." Karin inhaled. "Complex and powerful."

"Yes. There is a witch in the area, Amelia Broadway. I, too, sensed her immense talent. Moves are being made to secure her talents in the defense of this place."

Karin nodded her acknowledgment. "I have plenty of the potion I use to inhibit my scent, and I must have faith that Appius will not pick up any similarities between my and Eric's scents. However, if I get too close to Appius, he will _feel_ what is left of Eric's blood in me. I have always made sure that I moved on if rumors of Appius's proximity were in the air. However, now I will be putting myself into his path. Thus, I need the witch to construct a potion that will hide all ties of my blood. I have found a recipe for such a potion, but I haven't the skill to make it."

Thalia considered for a moment. "Give me the recipe, and I will approach the witch myself. She will help, and your involvement will never be known."

Karin nodded. "That is what I was hoping you would say."

The younger vampiress handed Thalia a folded piece of paper and then turned to walk away, but then paused. "If I meet the true death and my maker lives through all of this, will you give him a message for me?"

"Yes," Thalia responded.

"Tell him that _Isolde_ met her fate as _herself_ and without regret. Tell him that," she paused, " _Isolde_ could not have asked for a better maker."

"I will remember," Thalia said softly.

And with that, Karin was gone.

Thalia left moments later; she felt the need to be closer—once again—to her charge.

A human who reminded her of herself.

"Worth _at least_ ten goats," Thalia said with a little smirk.

* * *

 **BATANYA POV**

Unbeknownst to either vampiress, a being—not quite in the human realm and not quite out of it—had overheard their conversation.

Batanya used the magic that made her own stealth unmatched even among her own kind to materialize fully into the human realm. She took a moment to take in the scent of the vampiress Karin.

"Northman's child, though the elder vampiress was correct that she smells nothing like him," the Britlingen mused, allowing that knowledge to become added to all that she had already learned about her newest assignment. The Dae, Desmond Cataliades, had informed her that Sookie Stackhouse might very well already have enemies, as well as those who would covet her.

There were clearly many who cared for her, too. And some—like Northman—who, though he clearly cared, might be compelled to harm Batanya's charge.

The Britlingen did not care what the motives were of any individual who might try to hurt or to kidnap the young telepath in her charge. She would kill _any_ who dared.

However, she knew that she would also have to try to save Northman too—from himself and/or from his maker.

The bond required that.

Batanya smiled to herself. Britlingens were much more inherently magical than vampires, human witches, demons, and even the Fae—though they did not make potions or cast spells like the latter three groups did. Because of the magic within her, Batanya had sensed the precise moment when the bond had been formed between the vampire and the Fae-human hybrid. She had seen much during her time, but never such a bond.

In many ways, the newly-forged bond fought against nature. Yet—to those who had formed it—it was clearly the most natural thing of all, given the power of the magic their bond had produced. Batanya would be glad to protect the beings who made that bond.

She looked in the direction that Thalia had gone—the way back to the Stackhouse home. The vampiress was formidable. Northman's children, both Pamela and Karin, whom Batanya would now also know as Isolde, had clearly been taught the arts of surveillance and battle. Batanya had already discounted the help of the other vampire whom she'd seen—Bubba. He moved with neither grace nor power, though he had managed to skillfully track a squirrel through the woods.

Well—it was something to add to Sookie Stackhouse's assets. However, Thalia alone would be enough to eliminate most vampire threats. A third vampire guard, Padma, had yet to be fully assessed by the Britlingen.

The two-natured guards the Britlingen had seen during the daylight were exemplary. The werehawk, though young, was instinctive and clever in her movements. The shifter—who clearly preferred transforming into a bear—was quite powerful. The Weres in company—led by Maria-Star Cooper (who was one of only six beings to know why Batanya was in the human realm)—were estimable. The human sniper had seemed an odd choice for security, given the supernatural nature of the others, but he had turned out to be quite skilled with a lethal human weapon—if his practice shots that morning were true indication of his potential deadliness. Batanya had seen that the sniper employed silver bullets, which would surely slow down an enemy.

Other than Maria-Star Cooper, Thalia, Eric Northman, Desmond Cataliades, and his niece Diantha—as well as Sookie Stackhouse herself—no others knew about Batanya's presence. Cataliades had deferred to the Viking in giving Batanya her specific assignment: to protect Miss Stackhouse from _all_ threats. Batanya had not thought that Northman might be considering _himself_ to be a potential threat.

She sighed, wondering if her own charge could survive if Northman had to be eliminated to save him from harming his beloved. Their bond was strong enough to make the Britlingen worry that she would fail her commission if she had to kill Northman for harming Miss Stackhouse.

She _really_ hoped that she would not need to find out.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi all! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, featuring three bad ass women. I always loved the potential of these characters, so I think CH for them. However, I wish she'd fleshed them all out a bit more. So I hope you enjoyed what I did here.**

 **Please comment if you have the time & inclination.**

 **As I said last week, this story is going to need to take a pause. The good news is that this hiatus will likely be short-hopefully only a few weeks. The other story I've been working on, _The Journey Itself_ , is now fully drafted! I am currently working on the revision of it, and Kleannhouse, who betas everything I do, has ten chapters already to work on! If everything goes to plan, I can continue working on the revision for a couple more weeks and then begin posting that one as I turn back to _The Engine_. To those of you who are sad that this story is pausing-I definitely empathize. The muse is sometimes fickle, however. She wanted the other story, and it was coming to me quickly, so I didn't fight her. When I fight her and try to force a different story, I tend to get blocked for a while. Hopefully, she'll be refreshed and happy that I "obeyed" her and let me move back to this story. Many of you have asked about my other unfinished pieces. I will say that nothing is abandoned, and I hope to finish everything I've started and work on other pieces in this fanbase, which I am still passionate about. There aren't as many readers for it as there were in the past; however, I appreciate everyone who is still reading my work and keeping me excited about this wonderful past time of writing Eric/Sookie fanfiction. Thank you all.**

 **Hopefully, I'll "see" you soon with more of _The Engine_. Meanwhile, please give _The Journey Itself_ a try once it gets started. **

**Best,**

 **Kat**


	11. Chapter 11: Fool, Fool, Fool

**Chapter 11:** **Fool, Fool, Fool**

 **FRIDAY, JANUARY 14, 2005 (approximately three weeks later)**

 **ALCIDE POV**

"What the fuck?" Alcide asked himself as he thumbed through a stack of invoices on his desk. He'd brought some paperwork home with him, determined to get it done that weekend— _after_ he kicked out Debbie for good.

It was time. "Past time!" he growled to himself.

He'd given Debbie almost a month to get her shit together. And—to her credit—she had seemingly done just that. He knew for a fact that she was off of V—finally. Her eyes were clear, and her health was returning with her appetite. She'd even gained a bit of weight, which was good—because she'd seemed downright skeletal before! And her beauty was on the way back. Truth be told, a part of Alcide wanted her to stick around—which was why he'd not forced the issue of her leaving before. But a greater part of him knew that he needed to get her out of his house.

His _sanity_ depended upon it, for reestablishing a relationship with Debbie Pelt would almost certainly lead to his unhappiness!

It always did.

His _life_ also depended upon it. Every night Debbie was in Area 5 was another night that Eric Northman might catch up with her. And that would lead to both his death and hers.

Plus, he was fucking tired of having to leave his house early so that he could rent a motel room—just so that he could shower and change into fresh clothing in order to avoid smelling like Debbie. And—since she'd been in his house for so fucking long—he'd also had to start keeping his clean clothing in the garage! He'd put it straight into plastic containers right from the dryer so that it wouldn't get Debbie's scent on it. Otherwise, the motel and the showers would have been wasted! The whole damned process was a pain in his ass!

Thankfully, Debbie was in contact with a friend of hers from a northern pack, a woman named Tonya, and she seemed set to join her friend as a breeder in her pack.

Was Alcide happy about the fact that she was going down that path? Hell no! Part of him still thought of Debbie as _his_! But the rational part of him knew that he and Debbie just didn't work together—at least not for long. When he was younger, he hadn't been able to see that; he'd been almost obsessed with her in some ways. But that had ultimately damaged them both. Alcide was incredibly thankful that he'd matured when it came to his thinking about Debbie.

Three weeks before, she'd offered some flimsy excuse that she needed to stay with him for a while longer because the little apartment her "new pack" was setting her up with wasn't quite ready yet. She'd promised to do the cooking and the cleaning—and to not leave his house. She'd also promised to be out by the middle of January.

The next day—the 15th—would mark that middle in Alcide's book!

If he were being honest with himself, Alcide had let her stay because he'd hoped that she would come up with a plan other than becoming a "breeder," but she hadn't done that. He sighed. Debbie had made her bed, and her previous choices had led to her limited options.

"Not my problem anymore," he muttered.

Alcide was finally ready to get her out of his life—once and for all. Oh—she'd not been a horrible companion for the last several weeks. They'd even spent some cordial time together, watching movies or sharing meals she'd cooked. But any time she'd tried bringing up the possibility of a reconciliation, Alcide had shut her right down! And—to her credit—Debbie hadn't pushed the topic. For the most part, they'd been functioning as mere roommates, but Alcide wanted his house back.

Speaking of houses . . . .

He took his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed his father. It rang twice and then went to voicemail.

As always, Alcide felt a sense of dread when Jackson Herveaux didn't pick up. Was he on a bender? Had he fallen of the wagon— _again_?

"How the fuck did I find myself surrounded by addicts?" he complained to himself as he shook his head.

Granted—like Debbie—his father _seemed_ to be doing very well with his sobriety. Indeed, he and his dad had spent a really nice afternoon together on the day after Christmas—hashing out everything that had happened between them, especially regarding Jackson's drinking. And—since then—they'd even met for lunch and had gotten along just fine.

Of course, his father had promised sobriety before—many times—but even Alcide had to admit that his dad's efforts seemed authentic _this time_. He was going to AA and was checking in with Colonel Flood every day—since the Colonel had vouched for him when it came to some work contracts. Indeed, Jackson seemed quite busy at work, and Alcide was happy that he'd not been contacted by any angry customers about his dad showing up to a job drunk—or not even showing up at all!

Both situations had happened more times than the younger Herveaux cared to remember.

Alcide looked at the phone in his hand as it rang. With relief, he noticed it was his dad and answered.

"Hey, Son! Sorry about that. I was just taking a shit," Jackson reported.

"Geez, Dad!" Alcide chuckled. "You ever hear the term 'oversharing'?"

Jackson chuckled in return. "Sorry. I—uh—it's just that my sponsor's been encouragin' me to be honest to a fault lately—to say whatever's on my mind."

"It's okay," Alcide said, shaking his head.

"Did you think about my offer for dinner soon?" Jackson asked hopefully.

"Uh—yeah. And I'd like that," Alcide said. "Maybe Tuesday?"

"Sounds good!" Jackson exclaimed, clearly pleased.

"Um—that wasn't actually why I was callin' though. I—uh—was just looking through the monthly invoices, and one of yours got missorted into my pile."

"Again?" Jackson said, rather exasperated. "I've told that new receptionist about five times that she needs to get her act together."

"Yeah," Alcide agreed. "But she's only been with us for a couple of months. Let's give her a few more before we give her any ultimatums or replace her."

"That's fine," Jackson agreed. "And don't worry about the invoice. I can't think of any bill that's pressing. Just put it on my desk tomorrow, and I'll get to it."

"What I was mainly wanting to ask you about is the fact that there are ten light-tight shutters in the order. I wasn't aware that you were working for a vampire, Dad. And—uh—I don't know if it's the best idea for us to keep doing vamp contracts."

"Oh—uh—I would have told you, but discretion was asked for," Jackson said somewhat stiffly. "And it's actually a human that's the client."

Alcide shook his head as he looked at the invoice more closely. "Hey—your job's in Bon Temps?"

"Yes," Jackson answered somewhat hesitantly.

Alcide was silent for a long moment. "And the job's not for a vampire named Bill Compton?"

"No," Jackson returned.

"Is it for Sookie Stackhouse?" Alcide asked tensely.

"Listen, Son. My client was looking for anonymity on this one. Me and the crew even agreed to glamour so we couldn't talk about the client or the exact location of the job."

Alcide felt his frown etch into his handsome face. "Don't worry about it. I'll find out on my own!"

"Please. Don't be upset. I—uh—the job's good," Jackson said—as if it was difficult (due to the glamour) for him to say even that much.

"I'm not angry," Alcide sighed. "But I want to talk about not taking any more vamp clients when we meet for dinner."

"Alright. I'll see you then. I—uh—I love you, Son," Jackson said.

Alcide didn't respond right away; after all, he wasn't used to exchanging endearments with his father.

"Um—see you soon," Jackson stammered before hanging up right before Alcide found his voice to tell his father that he loved him, too.

The younger Herveaux sighed and contemplated whether to call his dad again; instead, he sent him a quick text. "You too," he wrote.

Looking back at the invoice, the Were felt an inexplicable tug. He always did whenever he let himself think about Sookie Stackhouse. She'd appeared and then disappeared so quickly from his life that it was almost as if she'd never been there at all.

But she _had_ been there. And he'd been quite attracted to her. He liked her devotion—though he wished it were better placed than with the vampire who had almost raped her. He ran his hand through his thick hair. Sookie also seemed strangely fond of Eric Northman. The Were growled as he thought about the arrogant vampire.

To him, Northman represented all of the reasons why Weres were right to avoid working with vampires. The bastard was arrogant to a fault! Every meeting Alcide had ever had with the Viking had involved Eric calling him "dog" or "mutt." Northman also liked to speak down to people—a trait that Alcide despised.

"I'm Were enough to be an Alpha one day!" he brooded to himself. "Where does that fucking vamp get off patronizing me?"

Speaking of Alphas, Alcide had been surprised to learn that Colonel Flood didn't seem to mind the vampire so much. Of course, Flood was comparing the Sheriff of Area 5 to other vampire sheriffs he'd dealt with during his time. And—truth be told—even Alcide recognized that things could be worse when it came to vamp sheriffs.

At least Northman was the same bastard in front of people as he was behind them.

Alcide looked down at his phone—contemplating. And then he dialed.

"Hello, Alcide," Sookie said by way of greeting once she picked up the call—after several rings. Alcide thought momentarily that she must have gotten a better phone—one with caller ID.

"Hi, Sookie," the Were return. "I—uh—how are you?" he asked.

"Good. Thanks," she said a little stiffly. "How have you been?"

"Not bad. Uh—listen, I was just going through some company invoices, and I noticed one for renovations generally associated with vampire jobs."

"Oh?" Sookie asked, an edge to her voice.

The Were frowned. Her tone made her sound more annoyed than guilty or ashamed. And he felt that the latter two emotions would have been more appropriate if the job was—indeed—on Sookie's home.

"Listen, I—uh—don't like Herveaux and Son doin' business for vamps," he explained. "And I called my dad—not that he told me anything."

"Alcide, why are you calling?" Sookie asked, clearly annoyed.

The Were sighed. "Is the work for you, Sookie? Please tell me that you didn't take back Compton. He tried to rape you!"

"I haven't," she responded.

"So the work isn't for you," Alcide said with relief.

Sookie paused for a moment. "It _is_ for me," she said firmly, "not that I appreciate how you're speaking with me right now."

"Are you with Northman?" Alcide asked with disbelief.

Sookie sighed. "Are you my friend, Alcide?"

"What? Uh—yeah!" the Were said insistently. "You know I am."

"Good!" Sookie returned. "Then you'll be happy for me that I'm happy with my life right now. I don't need friends that judge me."

The Were took a deep breath. "I'm not judging you, but I _am_ concerned. I've had dealings with Northman that make me," he paused, "worry about you."

"Don't worry, Alcide." She paused and he could hear her exhaling. "Listen, Eric and I _are_ together, and I work as a telepath now. I'm startin' a business with it."

"You don't think the vamps will just try to manipulate you? You think they'd actually pay?" the Were asked incredulously.

"They already are," Sookie responded. "And I've got control over who I work for."

"Listen, Sook. I'm _really_ worried about you now! You can't trust vamps to give up _any_ control they don't want to. And don't you know that the more people who find out about you, the more could try to kidnap you? Jesus, Sook! At least, let me come and guard you at night!"

Again, Sookie sighed loudly. "I can tell you're worried, and I think that is coming from a good place in you—one that has true concern about me. And I appreciate that, but I already have adequate guards. Eric has provided them; he's my partner in the business."

"Is that why you're having work done on your house then? For vampire guards?" he asked.

"No. I'm _with_ Eric, Alcide. The work is so that he can stay here safely; it's work I ordered and that I wanted to do— _for him and for me_! I'm happy with him. If you are okay with that, we can be friends. If you aren't—well—it was really nice knowin' you."

The Were frowned deeply, but managed to hold his tongue for the moment.

"You were worried I'd disapprove? Is that why my dad didn't ask me to be on his team for the job?" he asked with realization.

"I wasn't lookin' for your approval or your disapproval," she said rather sharply. "But I did worry that you'd make trouble. You weren't exactly understanding when I left Jackson with Eric."

It was Alcide's turn to sigh. "That was because I liked you. I thought—after the kiss we shared—that you liked me, too."

"It was a confusing time for me. And I apologize if I led you on," Sookie sighed. "But I don't apologize for my relationship with Eric. He's a good man—whether you think that's true or not. And he's good to me. And—more importantly—he's good _for_ me."

Alcide's fists clenched, but he held in his derision for the vampire. If only he could see Sookie—without Eric presiding—he was certain that he could convince her that she was wrong about the monster.

"Well—as long as you're happy," he said, trying to sound sincere.

"It was bad timing for us, and I do regret that," she returned. "But I really hope we can build on the friendship that started between us."

"I hope that too," the Were responded. "So—uh—in the spirit of that—how about lunch? Maybe tomorrow? I really would like to hear about the work you're having done. I might even be able to make some suggestions for you. Plus—uh—you might just convince me that projects like yours and those of other vamps are worth takin' on—at least in Area 5—for vamps that your—uh—boyfriend—Northman—approves of. My dad would sure be glad if we expanded the clientele."

There was a moment of silence on the phone. "Eric's not just my boyfriend. He's my bonded. It's fair that you know that now, Alcide. _Before_ I agree to meet you. So that it's not a surprise."

The Were bit his lip for a moment to curb his reaction. "Bonded? Did you get hurt again? Need his blood?"

"No. Eric and I made a choice to bond—one I'm happy with," she clarified.

"Okay," Alcide pushed out with difficulty. "It is good you let me know. If I'd smelled you before I talked to you, I might have jumped to the wrong conclusions. I might have thought the vamp _forced_ you or something."

"He didn't," came a fast response.

"That's good enough for me," the Were said—though he was having difficulty keeping the anger from his tone. "Anyway, I do hope you'll agree to lunch. I'd like to hear about your new business."

Again, there was a moment of silence as Alcide waited for her response. "Yeah. Lunch would be fun. And tomorrow is good, actually—at least, I think. I'm meeting with one of Eric's human lawyers at 2:00 p.m., so I'll be in Shreveport anyway. How about we meet somewhere at 12:30? I'll need to double-check with my guard, but I like Bob's Diner right off of the I-20, near Barksdale. It's nothin' fancy, but it's delicious. And it's owned by a friend of my guard."

Alcide lifted his brows in surprise. Bob's Diner was Were owned. "I've been to Bob's many times. And 12:30 works for me."

"I'll text you to confirm—or to let you know if I need to change the time or the location. Okay?" she asked.

Alcide again bit his lip so that he wouldn't point out the fact that she used to be able to do things without her guard's—and probably Northman's—permission.

"That sounds great, Sook! It really will be nice to see you," he added.

"You too," she said, though there was a question in her tone. "Until then. Bye," she said.

"Bye," he returned before hanging up.

He ran his hand through his hair, even as he began to run through what he'd say to Sookie the next day at lunch. He had to convince her to find a way to get away from the vamps!

With her, he figured that he'd have to take a less direct approach, but he was certain that—with the right words—he'd be able to convince Sookie that being with Northman was a huge mistake!

"And—after that—we can worry about how to get rid of that damned bond. Even if I have to get rid of Northman to do that for you," he growled.

* * *

 **DEBBIE POV**

From outside of the office door, Debbie had listened to Alcide's call.

She hadn't meant to. It was just that she heard Alcide say the name "Sookie" as she'd been going from her bathroom to the kitchen—so that she could do a bit of prep work for the dinner she wanted to cook for Alcide.

It was to be a special dinner. During it, she was going to "force the issue."

It was time for Debbie to move on— _past time_. She now had very few withdraw symptoms, and she'd managed—just the day before—to go through almost the entire day without having a single craving. The tremors in her hands had stopped. And she could think about V rationally now.

Yes. Her plan was to make Alcide a nice dinner—with some venison steaks from the deer he'd hunted earlier that year.

Hunted as a Were.

She knew just how to fix the steak for him. And she planned to pair it with a potato dish he'd always loved, as well as a nice salad. And when they were done eating, she planned to talk to him about the future. She intended to calmly tell him that she still loved him—wanted to spend her life with him. She would focus on how good things had been for the last weeks as they'd spent time hanging out. She knew that he would probably turn her down, especially since their being together would involve them moving away from Louisiana since she was a marked woman in Area 5. However, she had decided that it was important to try. That way—she'd never regret not putting herself out there.

And—if Alcide said "no"—then she'd leave the next morning. She already knew the bus schedule, and she'd collected what she would need to disguise herself so that she could get out of Area 5 clean. A box of hair color, the right makeup, and the right clothes would make her look like an overweight, brunette, forty-year-old—not an underweight, blonde, twenty-five-year-old.

She planned to call her friend, Tonya, once she was in Missouri, where she would get off the bus and spend the night at a cheap motel before getting on another bus the next morning. Indeed, she planned to travel mostly during the day—if she was traveling alone, that is.

She'd even decided not to do anything about Sookie Stackhouse. In her sobriety, she'd begun to believe that Sookie was a non-issue. After all, Alcide had neither seen her nor spoken to her in three weeks.

Until she'd overheard Alcide's call, she had held out hope that he might go with her. It was an outside chance, but it had been there, more than Debbie had even wanted to acknowledge. But the rage she now felt at having heard Alcide's tone as he'd worked to placate Sookie fucking Stackhouse cut at her, awakening her hate for the woman once more.

She hurried back to her room so that she could get ahold of her emotions. She went to the back corner of the bedroom, crouched down, and lifted the carpet there, which she'd loosened. She studied the little vial of V she'd hidden there.

A part of her wanted to take it right then, but she held off.

"No," she whispered. She wasn't about to ruin her sobriety for nothing.

"No!" she reiterated.

She closed her eyes and put the V and the carpet back into place, allowing herself to calm down so that she could plan. She knew that Alcide was meeting with Sookie the next day. She'd heard him say Bob's and knew that he was referring to Bob's Diner, which had been one of her and Alcide's favorite places to go.

Again, she had to work hard to stifle her anger.

"12:30," she whispered so lightly that even she didn't hear herself. Alcide was going to meet the bitch at 12:30. Debbie took a deep breath. She'd heard Alcide mention guards.

Debbie opened her eyes and stood up. She was done with Alcide. She sneered as she thought about him fixating on Sookie.

She shook her head. If Alcide couldn't recognize what Debbie was prepared to give to him, then he wasn't worth her time! The werefox took a deep breath. She would make the meal as planned, but—instead of asking Alcide to go with her when she left—she would simply tell him that she'd be going the next day.

And she _would_ be going.

She would leave Alcide's early the next morning and go to Bob's Diner and stake out the place; that would allow for plenty of time for her scent to dissipate in the area. She knew just the spot she could hide in. An old office building across the street from the diner had windows that looked directly upon the little diner. As long as the offices were still abandoned, as they had been when she'd last gone to the diner about a year before, she would be able to see just what was guarding Sookie Stackhouse.

And then she'd follow Sookie Stackhouse, take the vial of V so that she would have strength, kill the bitch, and then get the fuck out of Dodge!

She'd be damned if Alcide was going to push her aside only to live happily ever after with that human bitch!

Sookie Stackhouse _would_ pay, and then Debbie would leave her old life behind forever.

"Without any unfinished business," she growled to herself.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all! So glad to bring you a chapter of this story! And so sorry for the "pause" to it. I'm hoping not to have to pause it again, but I know for sure that you'll have new chapters for at least the next month. Thanks to everyone who has already checked out my new story,** _ **The Journey Itself**_ **.**

 **As for** _ **The Engine**_ **'s new chapter, it was time to advance the time line a bit. We'll get caught up with what Eric and Sookie have been up to next week—through a new point of view for me to write, Maria-Star's (she's fun to write, by the way). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Of course, it was only a matter of time before Debbie's crazy came out.**

 **I hope you'll leave a comment if you have the time and/or inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	12. Chapter 12: Take Good Care of Her

**Chapter 12: Take Good Care of Her**

 **SATURDAY, JANUARY 15, 2005**

 **MARIA-STAR POV**

Maria-Star had not been a fan of Alcide Herveaux for quite some time. Of course, being from the same pack and the same age, they'd known each other for all of their lives. Maria-Star would even admit to having had a bit of a crush on him—when they were around eleven or twelve—but he didn't notice her in any kind of romantic way.

By then, the Pelts had moved into the pack, and Alcide was fixated on Debbie, who was a friend of Maria-Star's when they were in their grade school years. Debbie, along with Sandra, who was a few years younger, had been adopted by the Pelts. And Maria-Star had bonded with the two girls because she'd lost her own parents to a horrible automobile accident when she was ten. That was when Colonel Flood, her godfather and uncle, had taken her in.

Maria-Star and the Pelt sisters had bonded over their similar losses and over their gratefulness at finding good families that had taken them in.

Despite his general ambivalence of her, Maria-Star had gotten along okay with Alcide until they were fifteen years old. As teen Weres often did, a group of friends snuck out at a full moon and tested their mettle—so to speak. Of course, all the testosterone-driven Alpha-wannabes had been keyed up to shift and spar.

The boys had laughed their asses off when Maria-Star told them that she wanted to participate in their little "tournament" too.

They'd told her that girls were _supposed_ to "sit back, look pretty, and appreciate them."

Maria-Star had never been one to just sit back. And—frankly—she'd not seen much from the group of males to appreciate. Plus, she figured she was as good as any of them at combat. They might be bigger, but she had a kind of natural cunning that her godfather had complimented _many_ times. And the Colonel didn't give empty compliments, especially not to someone he loved.

Ultimately, the male Weres had "allowed" Maria-Star to participate. Before they shifted, she'd heard the first Were that she was to spar with telling his buddies that he would "take it easy on her." That pissed her off. However, from that little prick, she'd learned the value of having an opponent underestimate her. Altogether, she'd fought four Weres that night as she won each round in which she fought. Her last opponent of the night was Alcide.

Of all of the Weres she beat that night—and, make no mistake, she kicked _all_ of their asses—Alcide was the one to take it the worst.

He'd disappointed her.

After she'd handed him his ass, he'd told Debbie that he hadn't "given the fight much effort" because he knew that she was Debbie's friend. In fact, he said that none of the guys had really made much effort to beat her because they didn't want to "hurt her feelings" or cause her to "break a nail."

Maria-Star knew that was bullshit!

Even by then, the fierce teen had known what it was like to fight with an opponent who was giving it his all, and Alcide had been doing _everything_ he could think of to get the better of her—within the rules of the boys' little tournament. Basically, anything went—as long as the wounds wouldn't get the teens in trouble with the adults. The goal of each match was to pin one's opponent to the ground in a position that established dominance.

Maria-Star hadn't stopped until she had all of her opponents on their backs with her fangs at their exposed throats. She'd enjoyed the sounds of each of them whimpering for mercy below her. One of the boys had even pissed himself a little.

Winning with such dominance had been quite gratifying for Maria-Star.

It all came down to the fact that Alcide couldn't deal with losing to a girl. In turn, Maria-Star could acknowledge that he was a good fighter, one of the best she'd ever sparred against, though they'd not fought since that long-ago night.

Still, Maria-Star had lost a lot of respect for Alcide, who was—unfortunately—ruled by a certain kind of misogyny that was still common in Long Tooth, despite her godfather's example.

Needless to say, she was never allowed to fight in another tournament, nor was she invited to run with the others her age anymore. She'd been especially hurt when Debbie had pulled away from their friendship. And Sandra always followed Debbie's lead.

When Alcide, Debbie, and Maria-Star were all eighteen—right after they'd all graduated from high school—the Pelts had moved to the New Orleans area and had joined a different pack. Debbie had stayed in Shreveport for a while, and she and Alcide had lived together. However, she'd never made a move to reestablish her friendship with Maria-Star, though the latter would have been open to such an overture.

"It was her loss," Maria-Star muttered to herself.

Maria-Star recalled that Debbie had often traveled with Alcide for his work, especially to Jackson, Mississippi, where Herveaux and Son had a branch of sorts. Ultimately, Debbie began taking drugs and fucked up her life to the point that she had made herself Eric Northman's enemy. She'd also tried to kill Maria-Star's charge, whom the Were could tell was a good person, kind to everyone around her.

Maria-Star was determined that neither Debbie nor any other with bad intentions would ever lay a finger on her charge! Past friendship or not, Maria-Star would kill Debbie Pelt if she tried to fuck with Sookie Stackhouse!

Of course, Maria-Star—because of the gossip in the Long Tooth pack—knew that Alcide was partly responsible for fucking Debbie up. The Were shook her head. She found it crazy that someone so intent upon being Alpha in many ways was totally against fathering even one Were child to help shore-up the pack. And it wasn't as if Colonel Flood required the males in the pack to be studs for other bitches either! The colonel was fine with men wanting to father children only with their wives.

But Alcide seemed strong in his desire not to have a two-natured child, as if being two-natured was some kind of shameful thing! Maria-Star had overheard Colonel Flood and Alcide talking about the situation one night, and—though she'd not meant to hear them and had left the area as soon as she could—she'd picked up enough to know that Alcide was uncompromising in his beliefs.

Maria-Star frowned as she recalled how Debbie had never been shy about expressing her desire to be a mother—to have a large family. She'd even talked about adopting orphan two-natured kids like the Pelts had adopted her and Sandra.

Looking back, Maria-Star found it cruel that Alcide had continuously pursued Debbie. Hell! Maria-Star remembered how—during the time of one of Debbie and Alcide's many "break-ups"—Alcide had kicked the ass of a nice Were that had begun paying attention to Debbie.

That Were was now the owner of a plumbing company. He was married to another pack girl they'd gone to high school with and had three children with her. Maria-Star couldn't help but to wonder what would have happened if Alcide had "let" Debbie date that guy—or any other guy that would have been interested in giving Debbie the kind of life she so richly desired.

But—no—Alcide had always been extremely territorial where Debbie was concerned. And he didn't seem willing to let her be happy without him. In the last year or so, Maria-Star had heard that Alcide and Debbie had _finally_ gone their separate ways—permanently. However, rumor had it that Alcide let her go more out of his need for self-preservation than his abdication of "ownership" over her.

Of course, according to Eric, some of Alcide's motivation for "helping" Sookie in Jackson was to pretend that she was his new girlfriend—in order to make Debbie jealous. The Were scoffed. It seemed that Alcide was not over stirring up drama with Debbie, and—due to the drugs and years of mental distress over Alcide—the werefox barely resembled her pre-teen self.

Maria-Star found the whole situation off-putting and wondered if Alcide was mentally abusive by nature. What she knew of Jackson Herveaux, his deceased wife, and Alcide's sister made her believe that Alcide's particular character flaws didn't come from his family.

Of course, Alcide's actions didn't exonerate Debbie. But they did shine some light on why she'd turned to drugs for some escape.

It was with all this in mind that she prepared to brief the team that would be traveling with Sookie that day as she went to have lunch with Alcide before continuing on to conduct the screening of Eric's attorneys.

She'd decided to leave Warren and Onawa, along with some other Long Tooth pack members, in charge of monitoring the house, for Eric was dead for the day inside.

Since he'd been staying at the residence, more Were guards from Long Tooth had been brought into the rotation, and Amelia Broadway had even been hired to set wards to expel ill-intent around the property, with extra layers around the house itself, and even more around the master bedroom—where Eric rested for the day. She'd also added a "fire-repellant" spell, so that any occupants in the house couldn't be burned out. But Maria-Star still wanted to leave the incredibly strong Onawa and Warren in place.

Thus, Willow and Mustapha would be traveling with Maria-Star to guard Sookie while the telepath was out.

Once the two had reported in, Maria-Star took her small crew through the logistics of the day and conveyed that they'd be taking two vehicles (she'd be riding with Sookie, and the others would travel in a vehicle behind them). And—somewhere in the mix—would be Batanya, though Maria-Star had no idea where.

Of course, neither Mustapha nor Willow knew that she was there at all!

After, telling Willow and Mustapha the basics of their itinerary, Maria-Star spoke further. "You need to know some things about Alcide Herveaux," she began.

"He's Jackson's son—right?" Willow asked.

"Yes, he is. However, while I trust Jackson Herveaux, I have less confidence in Alcide Herveaux's strength of character."

"You think he might be a danger to Sookie?" Mustapha asked, his irises flashing yellow.

Maria-Star smirked. She liked that her team was as protective of Sookie as she was.

"Not necessarily. However, from what Miss Stackhouse has told me about her interactions with Alcide Herveaux, he was interested in pursuing a romantic connection with her at one point. That never got off the ground. However, that did not stop Herveaux from acting possessive of Miss Stackhouse. That was before she was romantically involved with Mr. Northman. But he was quite vehement in his desire to convince Miss Stackhouse that all vampires are devils and that only _he_ was right for her," she emphasized.

"Is that why the son hasn't been working with the father in Herveaux and Son?" Mustapha asked perceptively.

"Precisely. Miss Stackhouse didn't want any potential drama, especially not with the initial project that just encompassed the bedrooms," Maria-Star responded.

"Why is Sookie meeting him then?" Mustapha asked.

"As you know, Miss Stackhouse takes friendship very seriously, and that's what she hopes to have with Herveaux," Maria-Star responded. "However, she was upfront and clear with me about her worries regarding Herveaux."

Willow smiled. "She is learning how to help us to protect her better."

Maria-Star nodded in agreement. "Yes. I also wanted to let you know that I have seen Herveaux interact with another woman he once felt possessive over. He could be brutal to any men that paid her attention. He _very much_ had the attitude that the _only_ correct man for Debbie Pelt was himself."

"Wait! Debbie Pelt? As in one of the people we've already been briefed to be on the look-out for?" Mustapha asked.

Maria-Star nodded. Of course, she'd made up the briefing material regarding the werefox herself. She'd included all that she knew about Debbie, as well as several photographs of her and Sandra Pelt—just in case Debbie enlisted her sister in some kind of fucked up vendetta against Sookie.

"Yes. Miss Pelt and Mr. Herveaux had an equal fixation upon each other. It was Miss Pelt's jealously over the fact that Mr. Herveaux was pretending to be romantically involved with Miss Stackhouse that compelled her to push Miss Stackhouse into the trunk that contained an injured Bill Compton," Maria-Star reminded.

"Also," she continued, "Miss Stackhouse has already warned Mr. Herveaux about her bond with Mr. Northman."

"Because she was afraid that he'd fly off the handle?" Willow asked.

"Yes," Maria-Star confirmed.

Mustapha shook his head. "I don't like this; Sookie shouldn't give this guy another chance at friendship. Based on what you've said, this Alcide character will likely try to talk her out of being with Mr. Northman—at the very least! And he might get rough about it!"

"Or manipulative," Willow said, also clearly not liking the idea of the lunch engagement.

"Do either of you two wish to try to talk Miss Stackhouse out of the lunch?" Maria-Star asked with a smirk.

They were silent.

"I didn't think so. Anyway, your own concerns were voiced to me yesterday by Miss Stackhouse _herself_. However, she's willing to give Mr. Herveaux one chance. _One_ only. If he begins bad-mouthing Mr. Northman or becomes overbearing, she and I have a signal, and I'll simply get her away from him. Miss Stackhouse is trusting us to do our jobs, but she's not going to let Herveaux get away with any shit either," she grinned.

"What is that evil grin for?" Willow asked.

"Oh—I just heard Miss Stackhouse going over some additional ways to deal with Mr. Herveaux with Dr. Smith after their appointment this morning—when they were outside enjoying coffee. Dr. Smith suggested a good kick to the balls might be in order. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, I'll be the one that gets to administer that kick."

"He's Were? How big?" Mustapha asked. "Do you want me to take care of him if things get rough?"

Maria-Star looked at her fellow guard and subordinate with cool, steady eyes, but she said nothing. After all, he could not be blamed for the fact that he'd never seen her in combat.

To his credit, Mustapha recognized his folly almost immediately; he was the one to break their stare. "Never mind, Ma'am. I didn't mean to suggest you _couldn't_ handle him."

Maria-Star gave him a little nod. "That being clarified, it would be a good idea for all of us to do a bit of training together. So far, I've taken Northman's word about all of your skills, and I know that he would not exaggerate. However, it might be best if we got some first-hand experience—testing one another. Don't you agree?"

Mustapha gulped.

"Good boy," Maria-Star thought. Mustapha was not a man who would deny that she was his Alpha—even if she was female.

"That would be useful," Mustapha said.

Maria-Star smirked. "I'll look forward to it then. Perhaps, Thalia and Padma could be convinced to spar as well," she posited, clearly liking that idea.

Mustapha nodded. "It would be good to hone our skills and learn to fight together, especially before we begin traveling with Sookie.

"So," Willow said, bringing them back to the day at hand, "after we get to the diner, should I shift and watch from the sky?"

"Yes," Maria-Star confirmed. "The same as last time. You know the signal if you see anything suspicious."

The werehawk nodded.

"And I'll take up position at the table right before the door to the back of the diner?" Mustapha questioned.

"Yes—just like you did when Miss Stackhouse met the demon Diantha for lunch after the last set of screenings," Maria-Star confirmed.

"Are y'all ready?" Sookie asked, exiting her home. Shadow, of course, was on her heels. The telepath paused to set the electronic security system that had been added the week before when Jackson Herveaux's crew had also installed light-tight shutters to the rest of the house. Generally during the day, those shutters were open. However, as soon as Sookie finished entering the security code, they all shut. Indeed, the house would be locked down until Eric rose or Sookie came back and reopened it with a retinal scan and a code that only she and Eric knew.

Maria-Star also noted that the new steel-reinforced doors that had been added as a part of the new security system would keep a Were from breaking into the house. During the next weeks, Jackson Herveaux's crews would be reinforcing the walls of the home too, systematically placing sheets of a special alloy between the inner and outer walls of the home. This alloy, developed by a friend of Eric's in Manhattan named Kenshin, would prevent Weres and vampires from breaking through the walls. And it would also make it much more difficult for someone to "pop" into the house. Indeed, Dr. Smith had already confirmed that she would not be able to "materialize" within the dwelling. Dr. Ludwig would be "testing" out the material and seemed to be thinking of the test as a kind of challenge. Upon being told of the addition, Batanya had kept her neutral composure and demanded a listing of the ingredients of the barrier, which Kenshin had provided for her eyes only. The next day, she'd relayed that it wouldn't be an issue for her.

Maria-Star didn't know how the Britlingen could be so certain; however, she was not about to challenge her assessment!

One thing was for certain: As soon as Eric decided to spend his days in the farmhouse on a more permanent basis, Sookie wanted all the layers of security she could get for him.

The Were appreciated and respected Sookie's care for her mate. It mirrored Eric's care for her. Maria-Star had rarely seen the phenomenon of true mates, though she'd seen some excellent marriages among the Long Tooth pack. True mates had a kind of symbiosis that the Were found beautiful, not that she would ever share that sentimental thought with anyone.

"We're ready," Maria-Star said to the telepath.

Sookie bent down to pet her puppy. "I wish you could come, Shadow. But I have to work today."

"It would be better to begin acclimating him to sit with you as you work," Maria-Star observed.

"Next time," Sookie sighed. "I don't want to have my attention divided when I meet with Alcide—just in case he decides to be a dick," she added with a shake of her head. "Alcide, not Shadow." She bent down to the puppy. "You wouldn't be a dick—would you, Sweet boy?"

Maria-Star chuckled as the puppy wagged his tail happily.

"Onawa?" Sookie said at a slightly elevated volume. The shifter appeared from her patrol in the woods moments later. "You don't mind looking out for Shadow—do you? I don't want to leave him cooped up inside the house. He just ate, but we left some of his food in the shed as well."

"I don't mind at all," Onawa smiled. She nodded to Maria-Star. "I'll work with him on perimeter searches and simple tracking exercises."

The Were nodded.

Sookie laughed. "And let him have some fun just traipsing in the woods too! He loves that!"

"I will," Onawa laughed, before whistling for Shadow.

The smart puppy looked up at his mistress and waited for her nod of permission before bounding over to Onawa's side.

"Well—let's do this thing," Sookie said, taking the keys for her new vehicle from her purse and going to the driver's side door.

Maria-Star motioned for Willow and Mustapha to go to their own vehicle before proceeding to Sookie's. She smirked. The telepath had insisted that _she_ would keep driving herself places, which was something that her vampire had supported, though he'd taught her defensive—and offensive—driving tactics.

That had been a fun night to observe.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the late post. I've been sick with the flu and almost forgot. Well—I don't have enough energy to leave much of a note, but I hope you'll leave a comment nonetheless. BTW, I really enjoyed writing from Maria-Star's POV.**

 **Next week's offering will actually be an outtake of the driving lesson mentioned.**

 **Kat**


	13. Outtake:No Room to Rhumba in a SportsCar

**A/N: So this week's offering is more of an Outtake than a Chapter—because it just offers an Interlude, rather than advancing the plot too much. Also, it's set a bit before Chapter 12, as Maria-Star recalls this night at the end of Chapter 12. I did want to set something on the night of New Years Eve—since, in the** _ **SVM**_ **timeline—that was the night that Eric's memory was taken by the witches. In this story, however, we have a very different set of events happening due to Eric getting there in time to save Sookie from being raped in the trunk. And, of course, everything after that moment changed. So—this little Outtake tells you what this version of Eric and Sookie did on that fateful New Year's Eve night.**

* * *

 **OUTTAKE: No Room to Rhumba in a Sports Car**

[ _NOTE: Read this outtake after Chapter 12_ ]

 **DECEMBER 31, 2004—9:00 p.m.**

"It's not like I don't know how to drive," Sookie chuckled, even as Eric leaned over her and buckled her in.

Goosebumps arose on her skin as he inhaled her scent and dragged his long— _and talented_ —fingers right above where the seatbelt held her into place.

"Dearest One, I know _very well_ how good you are in the," he paused, "driver's seat." He nipped her earlobe; she gulped, her throat suddenly dry.

Likely, that was because all available moisture in her body had just gone to the juncture between her legs! She would have regretted wearing a skirt and her barely-there lace thong—if she weren't hoping to christen her new vehicle that very night.

Her vampire growled, the sound low and deep in his chest. "The way you smell makes me want to take you— _right here_."

She blushed; however, he could also feel her desires, which equaled his own.

He smiled at the woman he loved; she was such a rich anomaly—still so innocent in some ways, but so full of passion. She could still blush at his suggestiveness, though he also knew her to be capable of pushing him onto the bed and riding him until they were both spent and barely able to move.

He nipped at her earlobe again, this time tugging on it a bit with his blunt teeth. "I had always thought that the first vehicle I would take you in would be my corvette—or at least upon the hood of it. Do you remember the orgy, Lover? How—despite the circumstances—we almost became lost in each other?"

"I remember," she panted, "especially how you looked in that Lycra. Pink and turquoise swirls never looked so yummy before," she added, biting her lower lip. "I guess we'll just have to settle for a Suburban for our first car sex," she suggested brazenly, though her blush ignited anew.

Eric could think of only one word to describe her in that moment: marvelous!

Sookie giggled, her expression and mood going from lustful to amused immediately.

"What is it?" Eric asked, leaning back a bit to better see her face—rather than just the ear he'd been teasing.

"I was listening to some of Gran's old records today—some of her," she paused and lowered her voice, "Elvis ones. There was this one song called 'No Room to Rhumba in a Sports Car.' Seems appropriate—huh?" she snickered.

Eric laughed loudly. "Indeed! But shall we have our driving lesson first? And then I know a beautiful, secluded place where we can," he paused, "rhumba for hours."

Her pulse quickened as she nodded. "Sounds like a good plan. However, what about the guards? I don't want anyone to see us."

Eric considered for a moment before speaking at an elevated tone. "Thalia!" he called.

The vampiress was there in a flash.

"Change of plans," Eric smirked. "After our driving lesson, Sookie and I wish to escape for a while—to ring in the New Year alone." He lowered his voice so that only she could hear. "The pond—the one with the weeping willows surrounding it between Shreveport and here. You know it?"

Thalia nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Do a sweep of the region and then position yourself a half mile to the east of the pond. Sookie and I will be there at around 11:00 p.m. I'll yell if we need you. After the driving exercises, Maria-Star, Onawa, and Tray will not be required. And instruct Willow that—though she may fly above during our driving and as we proceed to the pond—she will need to return here once we have parked."

The vampiress nodded and smirked. "Understood."

Of course, Eric knew that Batanya would be nearby, as she always was. However, she was lingering between realms, so she was never seen. And the vampire knew that she was easily forgotten by his beloved because of that. And—of course—he had no modesty to speak of.

"Ready to test out your new _vehicle_?" Eric asked suggestively after Thalia had left at vampire speed.

Sookie gulped. "More than ready, Mr. Northman.  
The vampire chuckled and zipped around to the passenger seat. His demeanor was much more serious as he took his seat. "As much as I enjoy playing, Lover, and as much as I intend to enjoy _you_ later, we must try to concentrate on the lesson at hand for," he paused, "two hours?" he posited.

"Two hours sounds doable," Sookie responded, trying to squelch her desires for her mate. She chuckled a little.

"What is it?" he asked as she started the engine. The vehicle seems to roar to life.

"It's just that," she paused, "well—it's not like we haven't done _it_ since you've risen."

"It?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes— _it_!"

"I remember us doing _it_ twice," Eric chuckled. "And what? Four orgasms for that jar you slipped up and told me about?"

She blushed. "Five."

"Ah—yes. Now I remember," he said, picking up her hand and kissing it gallantly.

She sighed. "Okay. Stop distracting me! You're the one that insisted I have a driving lesson."

"And you insisted that you did not want a guard driving you places," he reminded.

"Well—won't they be able to monitor the surroundings better if I'm the one drivin'?" she reasoned.

"One guard could drive and another could monitor," Eric responded.

Sookie shrugged. "I like to drive, and now that I have a new car—actually, it's more like a tank—I think I'll enjoy it even more."

Eric nodded as he looked around the vehicle that Kenshin had personally delivered the night before. He'd enjoyed catching up with his old friend for a few hours and introducing him to his bonded. Kenshin, of course, had turned on his charm, but the Viking knew that his friend wasn't trying to romance his bonded away from him.

Not that _that_ was even possible.

In private, Kenshin had expressed surprise to find that Eric had bonded. He also promised help if Sophie-Anne ever became an issue. To be frank, Eric did not believe that his queen would be a problem. After their first tense exchange about Sookie—which had included the queen's almost-apology for sending Bill into Eric's territory to procure Sookie without the Viking's knowledge—Sophie-Anne had been affable, a fact confirmed by Rasul, Eric's spy at court, and Desmond Cataliades, who continued to hope that Sookie would eventually accept him into the role of her godfather.

So far, Sookie had not bent where the semi-demon was concerned, though she had expressed her thanks for the attorney keeping an eye on the queen to make sure that she was sincere in her willingness to leave Sookie alone—beyond hiring her for work, of course.

Rasul had offered information that Wybert and Sigebert, as well as Hadley, very much supported Sophie-Anne developing an amicable relationship with the telepath, definitely not a surprise in the case of Sookie's cousin, who had been excited to speak with Jason and Sookie on Christmas. Andre, however, could very well be a problem.

Indeed, it was making sure that he didn't draw Andre's attention that had compelled Kenshin to make his visit brief. In fact, he was in and out of Louisiana within a four-hour window, flying into the same small airfield that Eric had used—and owned.

"Okay," Sookie said, having adjusted all of her mirrors. "What's first?"

"First, you must change your mind-set about vehicles in general—at least when you are in this one," Eric reported. "This vehicle is virtually indestructible; thus, you can use it as a weapon as needed. It also offers a good defensive position for you. If you are in here, and someone tries to get to you from the outside, you should—in no case—leave the vehicle. Even a vampire younger than five hundred or so would have difficulty breeching the Suburban."

Sookie nodded. "Kenshin said it was bullet proof?"

"Yes. And fire resistant. And—thanks to the witch—no one with ill intent could follow you _into_ it. However, if the windows were down, a bullet could strike you from outside. Though we will hopefully have no collisions tonight, the vehicle—and, more importantly, you inside of it—would be virtually unharmed if someone tried to ram you."

"What if that someone was driving a tank?" Sookie asked somewhat playfully, trying to lighten her own mood a little. Knowing about all of the security features made her think about all of the potential threats she might face.

"Do not fear," Eric said gently, taking her hand. "All that we do to protect you will hopefully be unneeded. Neither you nor I will ever hide from threats or avoid facing them. But you must trust in your guards, Dearest One, and in things like this vehicle, which will offer you even more protection."

She nodded.

"However, I believe you _should_ avoid tanks," he said with a playful grin, "just in case."

She grinned back. "Okay—so what's on the agenda tonight."

"That very much depends upon you how you do with a little obstacle course that Maria-Star has set up for you—on the road between here and Hotshot," the vampire smiled.

"Obstacle course? What do you mean?"

"No, no, no, Lover. No hints."

The telepath grinned. "Sounds like fun!"

* * *

 **TWO HOURS LATER**

Sookie practically leapt out of the Suburban before dashing around the vehicle to jump up into Eric's arms; he easily lifted her and kept her in place with a hand under her supple bottom. Her skirt having ridden up a bit as he gripped her, she wrapped her legs around her mate.

"You are the one with vampire speed tonight," the Viking laughed heartily.

"That was so fun!" the telepath enthused. "And I was so good at it!"

Eric nodded, even as his smile widened impossibly.

"Yes. You are surprisingly good! And using your telepathy to outsmart your opponents as you raced through the course was amazing!" His smile softened. "Have I told you how proud I am of you, Dearest One?"

Already in his arms, Sookie was at the perfect height to kiss him, and that she did—until she was breathless.

"Thank you! Thank you for arranging that for me—for trusting me to be able to keep my independence, at least as much as I can."

"There is nothing I don't trust you to do," Eric said gently.

"I know," Sookie whispered, though her body was still teeming with excitement. "I truly kicked Maria-Star's ass around those obstacles."

"Yes. And you were up against Were reflexes," Eric pointed out.

"I _am_ sorry about hitting that one truck," Sookie said with a pout to her lips, though a clear glint in her eyes.

"You are not," he grinned. "Remember that I can feel what you feel. And I feel pride, _not_ regret."

She giggled. "Well—I didn't intend to hit Onawa's truck so hard. But she was thinkin' about giving the Beast a little tap. And I couldn't have that! He's my new baby!" she added, reaching back her hand to rub the vehicle like it was Shadow.

"So you risked scratching 'The Beast' yourself," he chuckled as he repeated her new nickname for the vehicle, "by hitting Onawa's truck?"

"Well—yeah," she snorted. "Speaking of which . . . ." She wiggled out of his arms and went to take a look at her front bumper. She frowned a little. "He's scratched!"

"Nothing Tray cannot make right," Eric chuckled. "And don't worry about the truck you pushed off the road either—when you got that scratch. Tray just got it running for tonight. It was always going to end up in the junk yard."

"I'm just glad I didn't hurt Onawa," Sookie said with true contrition.

"I think your aggression surprised her a bit," Eric observed, "but all of your guards were clearly impressed with how you handled yourself."

"I have to admit," Sookie blushed a little, "going that fast and trying to avoid all the obstacles they set up—as well as their vehicles when they came after me—was so exhilarating! Speaking of goin' fast," she said coyly.

"What has turned your mood so decadently naughty, my lover?" he growled as he picked her up again.

The legs that had been wrapped around him before did so again—only this time, they were tighter.

"I was just thinkin' about goin' fast and—uh—how _you_ could do that. When we have sex," she blushed. "I mean—we've gone vampire speed a little, but I think I'd like to try a little more. Maybe a lot more."

Eric growled, low in his chest, and his fangs popped down like they were on taut springs.

His lips were devouring hers in the next moment and he'd ripped her shirt from her body in the next.

"Eric!" she panted, clearly exhilarated by his passion but also wondering how she'd keep her modesty since her shirt was torn into shreds.

"Do not worry," the vampire grinned, nipping at her chin. "I packed extra clothing for both of us before this little excursion."

"Always prepared—huh?" Sookie grinned.

"I am prepared to fuck you senseless, Lover," he said intensely.

"Bring it on!" she dared.

Sookie registered another rip—her panties—and a zip—his pants, even as her skirt magically rose a little more in order to allow him access to her womanhood. And then he was inside of her—filling her sheath completely.

"Oh, God! Eric!" Sookie moaned.

He looked at her, his expression as cocky as his—well—his rock-hard cock.

"Ready?" he asked her.

"Yes!"

The vampire began moving at a "normal" speed, making sure that she was fully wet and aroused. She was.

He moved them, then, so that she was against the side of the vehicle. He placed one of his hands under her ass—to keep her right where he wanted her. The other hand, he put behind her—so that her body would not impact the vehicle.

And then he began to thrust faster.

And faster.

And faster.

She tried to keep up with him for a while; she really did! But he became almost as blurry as her own mind as he stroked her G-spot—more like strobed it—over and over.

Again and again and again.

It seemed to take her no time at all to start orgasming. However, he didn't seem ready to let her stop any time soon as he continued fucking her in a frenzy of slapping skin and growls. And then he came with her.

But there was no reprieve—no rest; he just kept moving.

Pumping.

Even faster.

Even harder.

She lost her voice. And then her breath.

Right before _it_ would have been too much for her, her mate slowed down—though he stayed inside of her—in order to let her body recover a bit. To come down from the peak for a momentary rest.

To let her catch her breath.

"Eric," she whimpered, only finding her voice several minutes later.

"Sookie," he sighed, even as he continued going in and out of her, his pace steady and gentle—a perfect contrast to what it had been before.

Another orgasm couldn't help but to build up inside of her due to his ministrations, and right as she got to the edge, she used what little strength she had left to lean forward and bite into him—into the tender spot where his shoulder met his neck.

The Viking cried out and then bit into her neck, completing the lovers' exchange, even as his seed burst forth from his body and into hers.

He drank only a little—since he took from her each night—but he let her take until his small wound closed.

And then he simply held her as she recovered. He looked up to the sky—so full of stars that seemed to have been placed there just to witness he and his mate.

"Happy New Year, my love," he whispered into her hair.

She smiled widely. "Happy New Year, my love," she repeated, still panting.

The bond allowed them both to understand the depth of each other's affection; words beyond "love" seemed redundant, after all. And any words seemed inadequate for their joy.

When a bit of her high wore off, she giggled. "Okay—I'm gettin' cold now."

He grinned and took her to the rear of the suburban. After opening the rear hatch, he set her gently into the back before zipping to the side of the car. He opened the back door before quickly folding down the seats of the back and middle rows in order to create a long enough space for them to lie down in comfortably. Then, he grabbed a quilt he'd taken from the farmhouse and laid it down before lying down with Sookie into the cargo space and covering them with a second quilt. Her panties and shirt in tatters outside, she was left in just her bra and skirt, while he was still fully dressed. However, she didn't mind. In fact, she felt pretty mind-blown at the moment.

"That was different," she finally giggled.

"Different good?" he asked.

"You _know_ I loved it," she blushed.

"But you prefer our normal kind of sex?" he asked.

"I think vampire speed would wear me out if we did it all the time," she said honestly. "But—for special occasions—I'd _very_ much like to do that again."

He could feel that she was sincere. "I will always give you anything that you wish for, Lover," he promised.

They lay with each other in a comfortable silence for a while—until Sookie's yawns turned into on-and-off dozing.

"I was hoping I'd be up for another round," she said drowsily. "It looks like we might have to Rhumba _in_ the car at a later date, Mr. Northman."

He chuckled, even as he disentangled himself from her and helped his sleepy mate into the fresh shirt and panties he'd brought along.

"You don't mind if I drive back—do you?" he asked, feeling her getting more and more tired by the moment.

"Just this once, Viking," she whispered as she drifted to sleep again. Without stirring her, he placed her gently into the passenger's seat and secured her seatbelt before soundlessly closing the door. By the time he got into the vehicle, her body was already leaning toward the driver's side—toward him.

As soon as he was settled into the driver's seat, she leaned over the console and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Let's get you home, Dearest One," he whispered.

* * *

 **A/N: Well—I hope you liked that. It was fun to write! Next week's offering will be Chapter 13, and the plot will advance, but I do hope you didn't feel too cheated by this little episode of mostly fluff. Sometimes—in these troubled times—a bit of fluff is nice.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	14. Chapter 13: How Can You Lose

**Chapter 13: How Can You Lose What You Never Had**

 **(Ninety minutes after Chapter 12 & just after Sookie's lunch with Alcide has ended)**

Sookie closed her eyes tightly and leaned against her steering wheel. The disappointment was clear on her face.

Maria-Star gave her a few minutes of silence—patient as she scanned the area, using all of her honed senses. In truth, her instincts told her to get out of the vehicle and to track a disturbingly familiar scent she'd thought she'd picked up on earlier; however, she stayed in place with her charge, even as Mustapha kept watch from outside, and Willow flew in circles above them.

"Would you like for me to cancel your appointments, Miss Stackhouse?" the Were finally asked.

"No. That won't be necessary, Maria-Star," Sookie sighed. "I'm okay—just disappointed in Alcide and pissed off." She sat up a little straighter and started the engine of her new Chevrolet Suburban. "The Beast" (as she had nicknamed the vehicle) roared to life. It had been modified by Eric's friend, Kenshin. Kenshin, whom she'd met when he'd personally delivered the vehicle on December 30, lived in Manhattan and owned a good amount of the Chevrolet company. Apparently, he had been designing vehicles with vampires' needs in mind for decades!

The good news for Sookie was that he'd sold her the vehicle at cost. And a lot of the vampire "bells and whistles," including the built-in, virtually indestructible emergency coffin and the light-tight shades that could be lowered, were prototypes, which Kenshin wanted Eric to help to test. So they hadn't cost extra.

Neither had the bullet-proofing and the fire-retardant system. Sookie figured that Kenshin had taken a loss on the vehicle, considering all that he'd done to modify it, but—when she'd tried to talk him into taking more money for the Suburban—he'd insisted that he felt bad even asking her for the small amount that he had. However, when Sookie insisted that she would be reading his employees at a discount when she and Eric visited Manhattan in June, she'd felt less guilty about taking the vehicle for so little.

She smiled a little as she thought of the training sessions that she and Eric had done to develop her defensive—and offensive—driving skills. That training had always ended up with them near a little secluded pond, finding new ways to christen the vehicle—taking advantage of all of its cargo room! Trying to hide her blush, she typed in the address of the office building where she was meeting Eric's attorneys and their team into the Beast's fancy GPS system.

"You do not remember how to get there from last week?" Maria-Star asked with surprise.

"I do. I just don't want to think about it right now," Sookie said wearily, her thoughts returning to her disastrous lunch.

A few blocks into their trip, Maria-Star spoke. "I am not your counselor, Dr. Smith, but you can speak to me if you feel that it would do you some good."

Surprised and pleased that Maria-Star was becoming more sociable—or at least cordial—Sookie smiled to herself a little. "Thanks. But I don't think talking would do much good. And—for the record—I _had_ prepared myself mentally for the possibility that Alcide was just meeting me so that he could try to talk me out of being with Eric."

"Well—that clearly didn't work," Maria-Star intoned.

"No, it didn't," Sookie smirked.

"Out of curiosity, who taught you how to punch like that? The sheriff?" Maria-Star asked.

"No," Sookie chuckled, even as she recalled the surprised look on Alcide's face when she'd hit him as hard as she (and Eric's blood in her system) could manage. That look had been priceless, though Sookie still regretted that there'd been a need for the punch.

"My brother taught me," the telepath shared.

Maria-Star smirked. "It was an excellent punch. But—in the future—you _do_ know that you have guards to conduct any physical adjustments that might be needed for the people you interact with."

"Physical adjustments," Sookie giggled at the phrasing. "I'll keep that in mind, especially with someone that has such a hard, damned head!" She flexed her sore hand a little.

"You are sure that's okay?" Maria-Star asked, gesturing toward Sookie's right fist, which had taken the force of her perfectly executed right hook.

Sookie chuckled and shook her head. "If I didn't have Eric's blood in me, I probably would have broken it. But it's fine. And if it's still sore tonight, Eric will want to heal it."

"Surely," Maria-Star agreed. "You will be so kind as to tell him that you could have— _should have_ —safely waited for me to take care of Mr. Herveaux?"

"I will," Sookie said with a grin. She knew that Maria-Star wasn't trying to cover her own ass; indeed, she was certain from the Were's thoughts that she was trying to tease Sookie for taking matters into her own hands—at least, her right fist.

In her way, Maria-Star was being her friend—though the Were would not have admitted that.

"Eric won't be mad at you. He'll be more likely to be mad at me for not giving you the signal. But I just couldn't let one more comment slide. And when he threatened that he would find a way to break the blood bond?" Sookie practically growled. "Well— _that_ was the line, apparently."

"It clearly was," Maria-Star agreed about the abrupt ending of Sookie and Alcide's lunch interaction.

And their friendship.

Sookie sighed. The lunch had begun pleasantly enough. She and Alcide had chatted about the renovations to the farmhouse, though she'd purposely held back any details that dealt specifically with security. They'd also talked about whether Sookie had suffered any fall-out from King Russell Edgington in Jackson, Mississippi. Alcide had even shared about how proud he was of his father's sobriety and renewed commitment to both his work and his family.

But eventually, the Were showed that his true agenda was to try to talk her into leaving Eric. She managed to shut him down for a while by bringing up her new business and focusing the conversation on some of the potential work Colonel Flood had for her. She'd thought that discussing the Were-related work would be a safer topic. It turned out that she was incorrect.

After listening to her excitedly paint the broad strokes of her new company, Sunset Consulting, Alcide had tried to counsel her to put the company on hold until _he_ could help her to understand how to run a business.

As if her thousand-year-old vampire business partner, who'd had countless successful business ventures, wasn't up to the task!

Though Sookie had felt like slapping Alcide right then, she'd held back. And summoning up all the lessons in "etiquette when you are dealing with idiots" (Gran's phrasing, not hers) that she'd learned during her upbringing, Sookie had thanked Alcide for his offer of help and had told him that she'd certainly "keep it in mind."

 _Bless your heart_ —the Southern woman's ultimate "curse"—had been raging through her mind the whole time she'd been placating him.

Indeed, Sookie had already begun to acknowledge to herself that a friendship between Alcide and herself just wasn't in the cards. Clearly sensing her lack of movement at his words, the Were had "upped his game" in trying to get her to turn away for Eric and turn toward _him_.

By then, they were done with lunch and were just waiting for the check to be brought, and Sookie really— _really_ —just wanted to get through the remaining portion of the encounter as civilly as possible. Frankly, she'd already been planning the words that she was going to use in order to tell Alcide that—though she appreciated him being her friend throughout much of the Jackson situation (until he'd run off after she was staked, of course)—she didn't see a friendship for them working out since he clearly couldn't accept her choices or her relationship.

Indeed, she felt very confident in how she intended to leave things between herself and the Were, though she'd regretted that he had never intended to truly make an effort to be her friend that day. But that was on him—not her.

Yes—she'd been hoping to be magnanimous (that day's word from her calendar) about the whole thing—to part amicably (a word from last week) with him. She'd just been congratulating herself for both her attitude and her new vocabulary when Alcide had leaned toward her to say that he'd heard tell of witches that could break blood bonds and _would be_ arranging for it to be done for her.

Her fist had connected with his chin before she'd registered that it was moving.

"The look on his face was pretty hilarious when I hit him," she remarked to Maria-Star.

The Were next to her chuckled. "You should have followed it up with a kick to the balls—as you and Dr. Smith discussed."

Sookie giggled. "Aphra and I were joking about that!"

Maria-Star shrugged. "Humor almost always carries a bit of truth in it."

Sookie looked over at her guard/friend. Of course, Maria-Star still called her Miss Stackhouse, and she behaved as professionally as always. However, the telepath knew from the Were's mind that she thought of her as "Sookie" and that she had some warm regard for her.

The telepath was happy about that, but knew better than to push things with her Head of Daytime Security. Thus, she'd stopped trying to compel Maria-Star to call her by her first name and had opted to simply enjoy her company when given the chance.

Of course, most of their time together found the Were in full work mode as she was even then, for Sookie was pulling up to the first guard station that led into the parking garage for the building where Eric's attorneys and their team would be meeting them. Eric had rented an office suite for Sunset Consulting in the extremely well-guarded (Were-guarded) and secure building just the week before when Sookie had begun doing day-time screenings of the people that he worked with.

So far—she'd used the office only once—to do an initial screening of Eric's attorneys' overall loyalty. Today's meeting would be a follow-up with the defense team that Eric kept on retainer. She had a list of more pointed topics to take the lawyers—as well as their team of paralegals—through. She'd caught no issues with them at the initial screening; however, she and Eric both thought it would be good for her to practice trying to garner more detailed reports. Though they didn't expect to find anything untoward with the attorneys or the others on their team, the practice—in a safe situation—was quite useful to Sookie, who was feeling more and more confident about her skill by the day.

And night.

Once waved past the first layer of security, Sookie drove up to the second. She smiled as she saw the German shepherd that she'd "met" the week before, Scout. The appropriately-named dog (a real dog, not a Were) was led by his handler, Scott (a real Were, not a dog). Together, they would be making sure her car had no bombs or anything like that.

Sookie had learned the week before that Scout had been one of Colonel Flood's dogs. Indeed, he was Shadow's daddy, a thought that put a smile onto the telepath's face. Sookie's little puppy had been an amazing addition to her life. And she liked "meeting" his father.

"Hello, Miss Stackhouse," Scott greeted in a friendly manner.

Sookie exchanged greetings with him as he and Scout did their work—both for her vehicle and the one that Mustapha was driving, which had pulled into the garage behind them. Willow had flown between the restaurant and the office building. When Scout and Scott were done, Sookie asked if she could give the dog a treat. Getting permission, Sookie opened her car door and petted Scout for a moment before offering him a milk bone. Happily, the dog took his treat.

"See you later," Sookie said to both the dog and his handler, before closing the car door and proceeding toward the ramp that would take her to the next level, the location of her assigned parking area.

Of course, during the whole process through the guard station, Maria-Star was looking around the garage carefully, her entire body taut and at the ready.

From the restaurant, the Were had already texted Colonel Flood to send extra security, for she'd thought that she'd picked up a scent as she'd been walking into Bob's Diner—a familiar one. As soon as she'd recognized it, however, it had been gone—taken away on a breeze.

She had not been expecting the Colonel himself to be waiting in the garage. But he was there, along with a few others, as Sookie pulled into her parking space.

"What's all this?" the telepath asked Maria-Star even after she'd waved at Colonel Flood.

"I want to investigate a scent I picked up back at the diner," the guard explained.

"Scent?" Sookie asked.

Maria-Star nodded. "You are aware that I went to school with Debbie Pelt, so I am familiar with her scent."

"Yes," Sookie responded with a bit of trepidation. She'd hoped that Debbie had moved on—preferably to Timbuktu—by then.

"I thought I scented her—just for a moment—at Bob's Diner. It was so fleeting that I cannot be sure. However, it is worth following up. Plus—did you notice that Mr. Herveaux had very newly showered?" Maria-Star asked.

Sookie shook her head. "No."

"He could have been trying to cover up a scent," the Were observed.

"You think he and Debbie are somehow working together?" Sookie asked with a frown.

"I doubt it, but she might be following him. Did he think of her at all during your lunch?" Maria-Star asked.

Sookie shook her head. "Not really. He had a fleeting thought about how she got entangled in 'vampire shit' and with vampire blood; he blames vampires for her addiction—to a certain extent, at least. He worries that I'll turn out like her. And he wished for a moment that Debbie was 'innocent'—like me." The telepath rolled her eyes. "Alcide has a very mistaken impression of me."

Maria-Star lifted an eyebrow.

Sookie blushed, but then shrugged. "So—what do you think the scent means?"

"Maybe absolutely nothing," Maria-Star answered honestly. "The scent could have been lingering in Mr. Herveaux's truck or on clothing that is normally not washed much—like his coat. It was so fleeting, and I did not pick it up again while we were at the diner, or I would have removed you from the area immediately." The guard paused for a moment. "Still—I want to further investigate. Like I said, it is possible that Debbie is tracking Alcide without his knowledge—stalking him."

"That sounds like something she might do," Sookie said sourly.

Maria-Star nodded in agreement. "Yes. So it is worth a look."

Sookie nodded in agreement and then got out of the vehicle as Maria-Star did. Mustapha was already speaking with the Colonel. And Willow was coming toward them from the side of the garage, having put on clothing that had been left for her on the roof of the building. Indeed, Maria-Star had made sure that bundles of clothing were left in a variety of strategic places for the two-natured beings on her staff.

"Colonel, I was not expecting you," Maria-Star greeted her godfather warmly, but also professionally, given that she was on the job.

"I wanted to make sure nothing was amiss," Colonel Flood said with a hint of concern. "Your text cited a possible scenting of Debbie Pelt, and we don't need the kind of trouble she'd bring with her."

"Agreed," Maria-Star said, even as she looked at Willow. "Anyone follow? Did you see _anything_ out of the ordinary?"

Willow shook her head. "No. And I didn't spot Debbie Pelt either, though I did continuous sweeps around the diner while we were there. And no one trailed you from there to here; of that, I am certain."

Maria-Star took in that information with a nod. "Very well." She looked at her godfather. "If you wouldn't mind accompanying Miss Stackhouse and Mustapha to her offices while I'm away, that would be appreciated." She looked at the others with the Colonel. They were Weres that she knew and that had been in the rotation at Sookie's farmhouse before. "And you two, do continuous sweeps of the garage and Sookie's floor." Finally, she looked at Willow. "Shift again and keep an eye on the outside. The building guards have Debbie's picture already and have been briefed that she might try to sneak in, but your eyes are better than theirs, and you can spot her if she is trying to surveil us from outside.

Willow winked at Sookie, nodded, and then turned to go back toward the door she'd entered a few minutes before. Actually, it was more like she skipped to the door.

Maria-Star looked at Sookie. "I'll be back before you have to leave."

The telepath gave her a little smile. "I'd tell you to be careful, but I wouldn't want you to know that I care."

Maria-Star smirked as Mustapha threw her the keys to the vehicle he'd been driving. "Thanks for refraining then." And—with that—she was off to track.

* * *

 **THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER**

 **DEBBIE POV**

Debbie Pelt hit the table next to her with enough force that the dust on the forgotten object seemed to jump up and down.

Everything had been going so perfectly before Sookie arrived at the diner!

She'd managed to get through her dinner with Alcide the previous night without letting her anger show. She'd even been sincere that morning when she'd told him goodbye and that she would miss him.

She would—after all.

Then she'd gone straight to Bob's Diner, thankful that the morning was windy so that her scent would scatter faster.

As she'd hoped, the office building across from the diner was still abandoned, and she'd found the perfect place on the second floor to watch the diner and still remain concealed from the outside. And then she'd simply waited, imagining the many ways that she wished she could kill Sookie Stackhouse, who had become the symbol of all that had gone wrong in her life.

Oh—in her more reasonable moments—Debbie knew that Sookie didn't have much to do with her problems at all. However, Debbie just couldn't shake her hatred for her, nor did reason rule her for long periods of time.

"Why couldn't you just die in the trunk, you cunt," the werefox muttered with ire.

Unfortunately, Debbie's fantasies had come to a screeching halt an hour before when Alcide had pulled up to the diner only seconds before Sookie did. Debbie watched as Alcide excitedly exited his vehicle. Meanwhile, Maria-Star Cooper exited Sookie's vehicle first and looked around.

Indeed, Debbie had to crouch down in order to make sure that the sharp eyes of her one-time friend missed her.

Debbie growled to herself. Sookie seemed to be taking _everything_ from her, even the allegiance of people that _should_ have been Debbie's friends! Moreover, Debbie knew that she couldn't best Maria-Star on her own.

But—then again—she had V to help her. She hated the thought of killing Maria-Star to get to Sookie, but she would do whatever it took to erase the blight of her existence from the earth.

Having waited long enough to know that Maria-Star would have completed her visual assessment of the surrounding buildings, Debbie had leaned up so that she could look out the window again, being even more careful to use a tarp she'd found to all but completely conceal her from any prying eyes, even if they were looking right at "her" window.

She watched Maria-Star give Sookie a signal to exit the vehicle. And then she cringed as she watched Alcide and Sookie embrace in greeting before hurrying into the diner. Debbie's heart—and courage—sank a bit as she noticed the car that had parked behind Sookie's. Out of it emerged a Were and some other kind of two-natured creature, though Debbie wasn't initially sure what kind. They were clearly part of Sookie's guard team, however.

Debbie had cursed out her frustration as she watched the female look around with sharp eyes before all but disappearing into an alley between Bob's Diner and the auto parts story next to it. Though the woman did well trying to conceal herself, she had no idea that Debbie was watching from a second-story vantage point. The werefox saw the woman shift into a hawk, and then the Were with her collected her clothing before putting it into their vehicle and going into the diner. Meanwhile, the werehawk began to circle.

Debbie sat back on her heels and closed her eyes tightly. How could she follow Sookie from the diner and figure out a way to ambush her when she had three fucking guards with her, especially when one of them would be able to spot her from the air if she came within fifty feet of the goddamned cunt!?

The werefox continued to fume, even as she kept an eye on the diner, making sure that the werehawk couldn't spot her. It didn't even help Debbie's mood when Alcide left the diner in a huff—and alone. Sookie had come out with Maria-Star and her other Were guard minutes later. The owner of the diner, Bob Brown, had trailed them and was speaking with Sookie warmly. Maria-Star and the other Were were both in protective mode.

And Debbie was left with a dilemma as the werehawk circled from above.

"Fuck it!" Debbie growled. She took the V from her pocket and contemplated it for a few seconds. Something primal within her—whatever it was that made her more fox than human—seemed unable to let go of the desire to kill Sookie Stackhouse!

"I'll take my fucking chances and kill them all!" she raged, as she uncapped the bottle and drank it down quickly.

Immediately, her body reacted to the drug in her system.

Debbie felt good—strong!

Invincible!

She rose to her feet and hurried toward the stairs that would take her to the ground floor. She'd shift and go right for Sookie's neck, hopefully catching all of those around her by surprise and striking an immediate death blow.

Yes! Debbie _would_ kill her—even if that meant that she would have to die in the ensuing fight.

No wait! The V would protect her! Of that she was certain.

However, when she was about ten feet away from the door of the office building, an invisible barrier stopped her, and a male voice spoke.

"Hello, little foxy. Aren't you an interesting find?"

Debbie growled and then shifted. She turned, ready to pounce upon and destroy the person who had spoken to her. However, when she tried to attack him, she found herself stopped by another barrier. Indeed, there were barriers all around her, seemingly closing in on her. Still—she ran into each one, fueled by animalistic rage and V.

"Try not to hurt yourself," a Were said, stepping forward. "I'd hate it if you did permanent damage to yourself."

Debbie noted that he was of slight build for a Were, and there was something _more_ to him as well. In her shifted form, her mind was not as fluid, but she registered that he was a witch as well as a Were.

He smiled at her, but it wasn't a smile of derision. It was a smile of interest—curiosity.

"I would very much like to speak with you, for you seem to be in the same quandary as I am. Perhaps, we could help each other to find out Miss Stackhouse's vulnerabilities." He smiled a little wider, the expression becoming a bit more sinister. "Plus, I'm sure that I could use you to amuse my sister for a while. She's becoming impatient and bored. And she is not," he paused, "safe to be around when she is like that."

Debbie yelped as the barrier seemed to be suffocating her.

"Just let yourself go to sleep, little foxy. I promise you'll wake up right as rain. I understand fully what a waste that will make of that yummy V you just took. But I'm sure I can find you some more."

Debbie fought to stay awake and continued to try to paw through the barrier.

The Were moved closer and closer, his expression placid.

"Sleep," he said in an eerily powerful voice. The barrier became even more powerful, and—suddenly—Debbie couldn't stay upon her feet.

And then she couldn't keep her fox form either.

"You are very pretty," the Were said as he took in her naked "human" form. "But don't worry. I won't take advantage of you."

Debbie shook her head, which felt as if it were in a fog. However, she had one momentary, clear image—a fantasy, really. She was up north in Idaho sitting next to her friend, Tonya, and in the company of other women she knew to be her friends. She felt safe and loved as she watched over a child that she knew to be her son. And then the image faded, and she could do nothing but sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for the continued support of this story! I appreciated your comments about the short interlude/outtake from last week. I'm glad that you enjoyed the fluff. I hope you liked this latest chapter. What do you think about Debbie being taken by Mark Stonebrook? Surprised? Are you as glad as I am that Sookie punched Alcide and finally gave up on that friendship?**

 **Please comment if you have the time and inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**

 **Just FYI: I hope I don't have to hit "pause" on this story again, but this was my last "banked" chapter. I have another almost completed for Kleannhouse to beta, so I'm hoping not to miss next week. Plus, I have another two chapters after that in rough draft form. However, there is a possibility that I will have to take a week off from this story either next week or the one after that. But keep your fingers crossed. A lot depends on how quickly I can get through several reports I have to do for work. And my house is sorely in need of cleaning. So—yeah—we'll see, but I hope not to have another pause. Send good thoughts my way—if you don't mind. This coming work week is going to be a bear!**


	15. Chapter 14: Do Not Disturb

**STORY REMINDERS: Since this piece was on hiatus, I thought some reminders were in order. These are reminders from** _ **The Trunk**_ **(Part 1 of the trilogy),** _ **The Boot**_ **(Part 2), and** _ **The Engine**_ **(part 3):**

+Debbie shoved Sookie into the trunk—just as she did in the books. However, instead of being raped and almost drained by Bill, Sookie is rescued by Eric before Bill can do as much damage as he did in the books.

+Eric and Sookie have a long talk on their way home (a flight, rather than a car ride). Her almost rape, draining, and turning at Bill's hands is the wake-up call Sookie needs. She decides to give opening a business with Eric a try; she will be a telepath for hire, but will control her own fate by working for people she wants to and building a list of allies from her clientele.

+Eric is extremely open with Sookie, telling her about Appius and Karin, who is a child that he has completely released—to the point that he severed much of their maker-child connection. He did this so that Appius would think she was dead. At this point, Eric can feel only when Karin is very near and know whether she is still vampire or finally dead. Eric fears that Appius might reenter his life and make him harm Sookie, so he calls Karin and asks her to kill him (Eric, not Appius) if he is ever ordered to hurt his beloved. Karin, whom we learn has changed her name from Isolde, agrees.

+Sam initially reacts badly to Sookie's choices; Sookie quits Merlotte's but has a tepid reconciliation with Sam.

+Eric is able to convince Sookie that guards are needed since Debbie Pelt is still an issue—and since "going public" will necessitate guards. Though initially reluctant, Sookie agrees to guards for a set time limit. This is a good thing, as some Weres were found lying in wait on Sookie's property as Eric and Sookie are almost back in Shreveport. Pam secures them in Fangtasia for questioning. Russell is contacted, and we learn that Eric and Russell are friendly.

+Of course, once Sookie gets to know her guards, it's clear that she will not resist keeping them past that time limit. Her team is composed of Thalia, Bubba, Padma (Indira's vampire sister), Maria-Star Cooper (Were and Colonel Flood goddaughter), Mustapha (Were), Warren (a human sniper—and Mustapha's significant other), Onawa (a shifter, whose "familiar" is a bear), and Willow (a werehawk). Tray is also a part-time member of the team. In addition, many of Colonel Flood's trusted me rotate in and out.

+Tray and Tara begin a relationship.

+Sookie and Eric learn of Sookie's Fae heritage from Desmond Cataliades, who tells Sookie the story of Fintan and her grandmother. In this version of things, Desmond had thought (because of misinformation from Fintan) that she didn't have the essential spark, and he learned of her telepathy only because Eric and Sookie were solidifying their contract (Desmond was drawing up the contract).

+Jason and Onawa (both cut from the same cloth) begin a relationship.

+Sookie learns of Bill being sent by the queen—but overstepping her directives. Sookie throws him to the curb. Bill is, not surprisingly, obsessed with getting her back and with getting revenge upon Eric.

+Meanwhile, Eric and Sookie begin a relationship and soon bond for love.

+Sophie-Anne is actually a "good guy" in this piece. Wybert and Sigebert are not brutes; indeed, Wybert is a very crafty advisor to the queen. Andre, on the other hand, is threatened by Eric and believes the queen should have free access to Sookie. Hadley is "undead" and well, and—though "simple"—she's not "bad" in this piece.

+Bill and Andre agree to work together to undermine Eric. Hallow, a witch who has a fascination with Eric (and thoughts of getting his blood), is influenced to work with Bill and Andre (instead of trying to bewitch Eric around New Year's Eve). One of their plans of attack is to contact Appius.

+Bill learns that Appius is in the Philippines and flies there to meet him. Appius decides to take Bill under his wing, but won't go to Louisiana right away because he and Alexei have planned to decimate a secluded people group living on one of the "uncivilized" islands in the Philippines. Of course, it is Appius and Alexei who are actually uncivilized. Bill is invited to participate in the decimation. He accepts.

+Meanwhile, Debbie Pelt has been staying with Alcide, getting "sober." She still harbors resentment toward Sookie, blaming her for all that has gone wrong in her life. However, she considers giving up the vendetta until she overhears Alcide phoning Sookie and planning a lunch date. She is enraged and decides to surveil the diner where they are meeting. She wants to ambush Sookie, but is stifled by the guard presence. Ultimately, she decides to attack anyway and takes some V. She is captured, however, by Mark Stonebrook.

+Sookie has been working/training as a telepath for a while and has returned home after "reading" some of Eric's lawyers when the next chapter begins.

+The Ancient Pythoness is Appius's maker, and one of her commands was that he release (though he doesn't have to unbind with magic) any child he makes after 200 years. In other words, he can still order Eric to do things, but-if he tries to be around him for long-he experiences much pain, as he is breaking a command.

I hope this "catches" everyone up.

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Do Not Disturb**

Of all the many— _many_ —things Eric Northman appreciated about his bonded, the chief among them was the fact that she was now almost always with him when he rose.

Vampires—even those who preferred nests—were generally extremely careful in both their choice of a resting place and its security. Certainly, humans were vulnerable when they slept, but a single unfamiliar noise could rouse them, and—even in the direst of situations—they could, at least, fight.

Eric envied them that.

During the day, vampires could not be disturbed by a suspicious noise—or even by canon fire.

Eric knew that from experience.

Indeed, only a few things could rouse a vampire once he or she was dead for the day. Exposure to sunlight or silvering would do the trick.

Or an overwhelming compulsion from a blood bond.

Eric had heard tell of vampires being awoken when a maker or a child met his or her final death. A part of him always hoped to be awakened by a telltale pain that would indicate that Appius had finally perished, just as a part of him always dreaded that the death of one of his vampire children—Pamela or Isolde—would shake him from his sleep. However, the stirring of only one blood connection had ever woken him before he should have awoken: when Sookie's fear and desolation had been overwhelming as she'd waited in the trunk for Bill to rise for the night and likely rape, kill, and turn her.

The thousand-year-old had never heard tell of one merely _tied_ by blood being able to awaken a vampire, but—then again—Sookie and he had shared a stronger-than-usual connection even before they'd completed their bond. Perhaps, it was her fairy lineage. Or, perhaps, it had been love all along—a kind of connection that surpassed even blood.

A kind which was pure magic.

And it was that connection, one that went beyond any that Eric had ever had, which now compelled him to share his resting place with his bonded. He knew that he never again wished to go to his day-death without her with him, and having her by his side as he rose gave him a sense of wellbeing—a sense of completion—difficult for him to fathom, despite the suppleness of the vampire's mind.

Thus, as soon as he was aware for the night, Eric assessed Sookie's wellbeing. Finding her content and well—though with a slightly sore hand—he said a prayer of thanksgiving to all of the gods and goddesses he'd ever heard tell of—at least the ones he'd found intriguing or worthy. In the next second, he stretched out his senses, using his hearing and scenting abilities to ensure that there were no threats nearby.

Finding nothing amiss, he opened his eyes to the sight he knew he would always treasure: his Sookie.

She was smiling at him.

Waiting for him.

He'd gone to sleep on his side—spooning her. Of course, he'd not moved. Meanwhile, she'd clearly been up and around that day. However, she'd rejoined him in bed—though sadly not nude—and was lying on her side looking at him as if he were some kind of miracle in her life. Eric was sure that he was looking at her the same way.

"You are dressed," he pouted.

"You are spoiled," she smirked.

"I would like to spoil _you_ , Miss Stackhouse," the vampire growled, moving quickly so that she was on her back and he was above her.

She giggled. "Later, big guy! But—for now—we have an issue."

Eric felt her mood sober in the bond. His immediately sobered, too.

"Let me guess; it involves Herveaux," he intoned as he reluctantly moved off of her.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"Did he upset you?" Eric asked with concern.

"No more than I feared he would."

"Yes. And yet you met him anyway."

"I know," Sookie said with another long sigh. "I had to know for sure though."

Eric nodded in support of her choice. He'd wanted to try to talk her out of the lunch, but his bonded valued friendship—almost to a fault. She'd been growing in that arena, however. She'd basically placed the shifter on probation and was still wary that he might revert to his judgmental ways. She'd also seen Arlene Fowler for the troublesome wench that she was, and—though Sookie regretted no longer interacting with Arlene's children—the redhead had alienated Sookie when they last saw each other at the grocery store. According to Sookie, Arlene's thoughts indicated that she had determined that vampires were "evil" and that Sookie was a desperate and pathetic "bride of Satan" for being with one. Of course, those feelings were mixed with jealousy as Arlene imagined what she wished to do with Eric.

Sookie had deflected from Arlene's culpability by explaining that the redhead had found a new boyfriend: a Fellowship of the Sun member. To Eric, that fact did nothing to release Arlene from the responsibility of her own choices. But—again—Sookie treasured friendship, though she had begun to treasure her own mental health more.

Thankfully, she'd cut Arlene from her life. The shifter was still an "open question."

By contrast, those who had encouraged and supported the changes that Sookie had decided to make in her life—her brother and Tara—had never been closer to his bonded. In truth, he'd never believed that Alcide Herveaux would fit into this second category of Sookie's friends.

"But Herveaux is involved in the issue—despite behaving as you expected?" the vampire questioned.

"Yes," Sookie sighed. "Maria-Star thought she scented Debbie Pelt when we were at the diner. It was a barely-there whiff, but she still determined to return after I was safely at the office."

"And she picked up the scent again?" Eric posited correctly.

"Yes. Debbie had apparently shut herself up in an abandoned office building across from Bob's Diner—early enough in the day that her scent didn't really linger outside. But on a sweep around the block, Maria-Star picked up her scent around the back of the building. There was another Were scent, too. In the building, Maria-Star found where Debbie had been staking us out. She also scented magic."

"Magic?" Eric asked with a frown.

"Yeah," Sookie nodded. "It concerned Maria-Star enough that she wants Thalia or you to investigate the scent more thoroughly. Or Padma—since she has that ability to scent different magics. Oh—and I was thinkin' that Amelia might be able to help, too."

"Good thoughts," Eric nodded. "We will send Padma as a start."

"Maria-Star also picked up another scent around Debbie's little surveillance spot—though it was more like Debbie had carried it there rather than that he was there himself," Sookie shared.

"Herveaux," Eric guessed.

"Yeah," the telepath confirmed with resignation. "After she found out all that she could at the office building, Maria-Star called Colonel Flood and arranged for one of his people to keep watch there—in the slight chance that Debbie returned. Then, she got Alcide's address from the colonel and went over to his house. There, she smelled Debbie strongly—as if she'd been there for a while." Sookie sat up. "To keep him from going home right away, the colonel called Alcide over to his house."

"His excuse?" Eric asked.

"Colonel Flood told Alcide that he wants to go over some plans for a new outbuilding the colonel wants to have constructed. And he and his wife Maggie have invited Alcide to stay for dinner."

"But _really_ you and Maria-Star decided that you wanted Alcide to be somewhere that you knew he could be monitored, while we investigate," Eric said with a proud smirk.

"Yes. Maria-Star has on some of that scent-covering potion that Amelia cooked up and is currently staking out Alcide's house with one of Colonel Flood' s guys, ready to grab Debbie if she shows up there. Mustapha and Willow—as well as two of the colonel's other people—came home with me after my work was done at the office. Right now, Maria-Star's in a holding pattern, though she texted Thalia to call her as soon as she rose. I imagine that she's briefing her right now about the situation. Oh—and your lawyer team is very solid. Good choice!"

Eric smiled, but then his expression became neutral as he looked at his bonded closely—almost studying her. "What do you believe should be done, Sookie?" he asked.

"You're asking for my permission to hurt Alcide if you have to—to maybe even kill him—aren't you?" Sookie asked.

Eric nodded. "He knew of the edict not to help Debbie Pelt in any way and to report her whereabouts if she was spotted in Louisiana. Colonel Flood put out the edict, too."

"I know," Sookie sighed. "And it seems pretty clear he's been harboring her, though I don't think he'd help her to hurt me."

The vampire nodded. "I agree, but—if what you say is accurate, then he will still face punishment."

"And Colonel Flood will take a cue from you on how bad that needs to be," the telepath speculated.

"Yes."

Sookie sat up a little straighter, seeming to steel herself to what needed to happen. "You can't go light on someone who has done something that endangered us—no matter what Alcide's motives might have been."

"No. I cannot," the vampire confirmed. " _I will not_."

Sookie nodded. "I know. And—though you don't need it—I'm offering you my permission to do what you have to. We need information from him, too. And we'll get more if I help."

"Sookie, I don't think you need to . . . ."

She interrupted him. "I _do_ need to, Eric," she said fiercely. "If we're right, Alcide's been helping the person that tried to hurt me. She put me into that trunk, Eric. And her thoughts that day were malicious! She _wanted_ Bill to hurt me, rape me, drain me, kill me, or even turn me! And the man who tried to convince me that he was my best option for safety today has helped her!" She practically growled. "I don't like the idea of violence, Eric. But Alcide deserves an ass kicking! And I deserve an explanation." She took a deep breath. "Or maybe Debbie's somehow gotten a witch to help her manipulate Alcide into giving her help. And—if that's the case—I'm the best bet for finding that out and saving him from an ass-whooping from you, which would be about a thousand times worse than the punch I gave him earlier."

Eric couldn't hide his smirk. "A punch, Dearest One?"

Sookie growled again. "Yeah—well, he threatened to have a witch sever our bond, so I hit him as hard as I could."

"Is that why your hand hurts?" the vampire asked, his amusement warring with his concern and anger.

"Yeah," she sighed, chuckling to herself. "I hit him hard enough that he already had a swollen chin when I told him that our friendship was over. I'm sure I would have broken my hand if I'd not had your blood in me."

The vampire took her slightly swollen hand and examined it.

"Will you take my blood?" he asked.

"Can you give it to me _and_ behave at the same time?" she countered. "We need to take care of this situation—not lose a few hours like we generally do when we exchange."

He grinned widely. "You have just as much difficulty controlling your lust when we exchange, Miss Stackhouse."

"That's another reason why I'm willing to bear a sore hand for a few hours more, Mr. Northman," she said as she stood up.

"I don't like the thought of you in pain—any pain," he frowned. "So I will behave."

Her smile softened. "Okay."

In the next second, his wrist was opened and in front of her. She leaned in and took a large gulp, but then backed away as she felt the urge to jump him. For his part, Eric had closed his eyes tightly. "Sookie," he said her name, half-warning and half-begging, "I can be _very_ quick," he growled.

"And Maria-Star is likely making a thorough report for Thalia. That could take a while," Sookie panted.

In the next second, Sookie's clothing was off, and her back was against the wall of the bathroom. Miraculously, Eric had also managed to turn on the shower.

"And we would have had to take time to bathe anyway," he said, even as he peppered her mouth, neck, and chest with open-mouthed kisses.

"I was already clean, but I see your point," Sookie giggled, as her nails dug into his strong shoulders and spurred him on.

As she bent forward to nip at his ear, he couldn't help but to sheathe himself inside of her. Indeed, he'd not even needed a guiding hand to find her warmth; his cock simply knew where it wanted to be, and it went there!

Both vampire and human-fairy hybrid sighed out their contentment at being joined.

"Why was I ready to insist that we didn't need to do _this_ first thing?" Sookie chastised herself through her grunting and sighs.

"Foolish woman," he returned playfully, even as he made playful circular movements with his hips.

"Oh my!" Sookie yelled in ecstasy at the exquisite feeling he was introducing her to.

"You like that, My Lover?" he purred.

"Yes!" she cried out as he continued his movements, even as he took her into the shower.

He paused his thrusting for a moment—tenderly kissing her—as he positioned them underneath the rain-showerhead. Feeling his lust momentarily transform into pure love, she moved her hands to his face, knowing that he loved such affectionate touches from her.

"You love me," he said, his voice filled with awe.

"I do," she whispered in confirmation. She'd learned that Eric's mood would—almost nightly—transform as it currently had—from lust to love. Usually, this occurred when he would be reminded of one of the ways she'd changed her home to make it _his_ as well.

"You have given me so much," the vampire said, moving again—though more unhurriedly than before. "You are mine," he continued—his tone still one of awe, rather than possession. "And you have given me a home."

"You've made it feel like one again," she returned. "And you've given me just as much as I could ever give you."

"I love you," the vampire averred.

"I know. Now—you'd better get moving," she smiled. "We _do_ have work to do, Mr. Northman."

Eric grinned in return, his mood resuming its earlier playfulness. "Anything for you, Lover."

Pinning her against the tile wall, he began moving with more powerful, purposeful strokes. She gripped his shoulders tightly, fully testing her healed hand as well as the strength of his skin under the assault of her fingernails.

"More," Sookie gasped as Eric found her sweet-spot inside with his talented cock. He continued to probe at her spot, even as he approached his own completion. He moved one of his hands to her clit to hurry up her release, even as he moved his mouth to her neck and licked the delicate, enticing vein there. The moment her walls began to flutter around his cock, he bit into her neck. As he took his first and only gulp of the night, she tumbled into her orgasm with a cry, and he completed his own with a roar before healing her skin.

Knowing she'd be wobbly for a moment, he gave her a while to catch her breath before putting her onto her feet and grabbing the shampoo. Using a level of speed somewhere between human and full-vampire, he had them both fully bathed in three minutes.

As he toweled her off, she grinned at him.

"I guess that whole bein' in control thing after I take your blood isn't gonna work out—for either of us," she giggled.

Eric laughed. "I guess not."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Sookie was putting her still slightly damp hair into a pony tail as Eric laced up his boots.

"How far is too far?" the vampire asked his bonded.

Sookie closed her eyes; somehow, she'd known that he was going to ask her that question. "Once we've learned everything that we can from Alcide, I'll need you to tell me if it's bad enough that you think he should be killed."

"I do not believe it will come to that," Eric responded quickly.

"I hope not. But I'll still need for you to tell me. If you are gonna have to execute him, make sure that Colonel Flood understands first. I don't want issues between you two."

"You're more worried about my position with the Shreveport Weres than your friend?" Eric asked with surprise.

Sookie shook her head. "Alcide's _not_ my friend. Today taught me that. In fact, I don't know that he ever really was my friend," she admitted almost to herself with a sigh. "Still—I don't want him to be killed. But I understand that sometimes you will need to do things that follow Supe law, and Alcide would have known the potential punishment if he helped Debbie—right?"

"Yes," the vampire confirmed.

"I just ask that—if he's gonna be killed—it happens as quickly and as painlessly as possible. Okay? And—if he's punished in a," she paused, "less final way, I trust you to make that punishment fit the crime." She shook her head. "I don't like the idea of torture for torture's sake. But—other than that—I know you'll do what you need to do for us. I trust you."

Eric smiled softly at her as he approached. "I can feel that you do—trust me—and I am grateful, Dearest One. I was not sure we'd ever get here, especially not when it came to a topic like this."

"Well, we're here," she smiled back, placing her hand onto his chest—over where his heart lay still. "Now—let's get this done so that we can get back _here_. That shower was a good appetizer, but I was hoping for a much longer meal," she said coyly.

"Well," he smirked, "far be it for me to ever deny my bonded sustenance."

* * *

 **A/N: First of all, I'm sorry that this piece had such a long hiatus. It was never my intention to be gone from it for so long. I have been working on it as I could, which was difficult due to a bad batch with symptoms related to my fibromyalgia and the full time (and part time) jobs that I have. Most of you have graciously supported me, whether I can post on a story regularly or not. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart. At the same time, others have been frustrated that I seemed to abandon this piece, and I understand your frustration. Like you, I hated when I would get invested in a story, only to have it never completed. However, I hope that you will all remember that—as long as I am "active," meaning that I am working on something (which I've been doing with** _ **The Journey Itself**_ **all along)—no story is abandoned. Indeed, I have plans to return to complete three different items—** _ **Who's Your Daddy?**_ **,** _ **From the Inside Out**_ **, and the** _ **Gift Horse Series**_ **—as soon as this piece is finished. Sometimes, my inspiration on a story does dry up—or there is something that inspires me to the point that I cannot not write it (like** _ **The Journey Itself**_ **did); however, I am going to try not to post any pieces in the future that I cannot commit to at least one chapter per week on, which means that I will have already finished the rough draft of them—at least. Sadly,** _ **The Engine's**_ **rough draft is not quite done, but I am hopeful that there will be no more pauses. Indeed, I can commit to having chapters during the next eight weeks for you. And—within that time—I hope to finish the rest of the piece so that there will be no additional pauses. Again—many, many thanks to everyone who has supported me and read my work throughout the years. I still have stories to write for Eric & Sookie. I continue to appreciate your comments, your excitement, and your patience. **

**All the best,**

 **Kat**

 **P.S. I will post each week—likely on Sundays.**


	16. Chapter 15: Where Do You Come From

**Chapter 15: Where Do You Come From**

 **PADMA POV**

Thalia had been very specific about what she wanted Padma to do. And—not surprisingly—it perfectly fit her skill set. Of course, Thalia—as well as Eric Northman and her charge, Sookie Stackhouse—knew exactly what the younger vampiress's talents were. Indeed, telling them had been a condition of Padma's employment as one of Sookie's primary nighttime guards.

Padma's vampire sister, Indira, had assured her that Thalia was someone she could trust—someone whose trust was well worth earning. And, of course, she knew that Indira felt an even stronger respect and allegiance for Eric Northman. Her vampire sister had initially settled in New Orleans during the 1950s, and—although she'd not disliked living in Queen Sophie-Anne's Area, nor had she minded spending time at court from time to time—Indira craved a quieter, simpler existence. She found that in Area 5. It did not hurt that Padma and Indira's maker, Agni, knew Eric and respected him.

Especially since their maker had found so few that he respected.

In Sanskrit, "agni" meant "fire." And it was the name of the ancient Hindu fire god. Born in Thanjavur (in the South Indian state of Tamil Nadu) around 1200 and turned about twenty-five years later, Agni's birthdate had been marked by severe lightning, which had struck and burned down his parents' modest dwelling. The family had survived—with Agni's mother having to be carried out even as she was pushing to give birth to her child. Seeing the fire as some kind of sign from the gods, Agni's parents had awarded their son with a name to reflect nature's arson.

Agni had seemingly been born to have that name—with a fiery personality that could be lethal. He especially despised cruelty toward women, a feeling first developed as he witnessed his older sister's ill-treatment by her husband. Agni had killed that man after he'd become a vampire. Years later, he found Indira in a similar state as his sister had been in. Many years after that, he'd interrupted Padma being beaten by her husband.

Padma could not recall what her husband had been so upset about— _that time_. For there had been so many other times before that—from the time that her father had married her off to a powerful man who was twenty years her senior. Padma had been but thirteen years old when she wed—only one year past her first menses. However, she'd been happy to please her family with her marriage. However, her happiness ended only a day after her wedding when her new husband struck her for the first time.

Padma automatically raised her hand to her cheek, for it was there that she had felt her husband's first blow. He'd been brazen about his beatings, too—never choosing to hit her in places that could be hidden by clothing. No—he had been proud that the beautiful woman he possessed was marked by him with bruises and cuts. Everyone in Padma's social sphere, including her father, knew of her beatings. But none could— _or would_ —do anything to protect her from him.

Until her maker entered her life.

Agni killed Padma's husband and then gave the battered young woman a choice. On the one hand, she could take her husband's property and be reabsorbed into her father's household. From it, she might be forced to marry again. However, even if she were not, she would never have much say in her own life. On the other hand, she could join Agni and his two children, Indira and Ravi, and live a very different kind of life than the one that she was used to.

 _Different_ had sounded pretty damned good!

And she'd never regretted her choice, nor did she regret the one which had brought her to Area 5 and put her under Thalia's command.

As a vampire of only 304 years, Padma could not, of course, compare her strength to Thalia's. However, Padma was certain that she could learn much from her lead if she was willing to listen, observe, and follow her elder, which was her intention.

Agni had supported her decision to stay in Area 5, just as he'd supported Indira's. For his own part, Agni continued to live a rather nomadic life, roaming from one end of the Indian subcontinent to the other, zigzagging from one familiar haunt to the next. Ravi, too, was content to stay in familiar territory. Padma did not mind the life they had all led together in India; indeed, at times during her existence, she craved—with aching—the colors and sounds of her homeland. But, like Indira, she also had a strong desire to experience life in new places.

And unlike Agni, Padma was not without some ambition in the vampire world. Her human father—as flawed as he was in many ways—had been a respected guard to Devaraja Wodeyar II, the fourteenth maharaja of the Kingdom of Mysore. As a small child, Padma had pretended that she could one day become a guard to the maharaja too, though her gender—of course—made that fantasy impossible. As it stood now, however, Padma hoped to one day guard a worthy vampire king or queen.

To get such a position, Padma knew that she needed experience as a guard. And the endorsement of one such as Thalia would be listened to, for even the monarchs that might not like Thalia certainly respected her.

"Well?" Maria-Star asked the lovely vampiress who'd spent the last twenty minutes walking through the empty office building from which Debbie Pelt had watched Sookie have lunch with Alcide Herveaux earlier that day.

Thalia had given Padma the task of investigating the scene, for Padma had become something of a "magician" at picking up and analyzing magical scents (pun intended). So common was magic in the part of the world that she was from that Agni had encouraged his child—whose gift was already an uncommonly precise sense of smell—to make an intensive study of spell scents. Arguably, no vampire in the world had a more trained nose when it came to detecting and analyzing magic.

"Debbie Pelt stayed in her perch for at least a few hours, and no magic touched that place. And you are right that Herveaux did not enter this building. His scent came in with Debbie, likely on her clothing. The Were that performed the magic stayed down on the first floor and within a thirty-foot radius of the back door where he entered. He was no friend of Debbie Pelt's," Padma reported.

"How can you be sure?" Maria-Star asked.

"He used magic to cage her here," Padma said, walking in a graceful circle of about a ten-foot diameter. "She struggled mightily against that magic."

"How can you know that?" the Were asked, intrigued. Indeed, at times Maria-Star had a difficult time suppressing her interest in and attraction for Padma, who seemed to return her notice.

Padma smiled softly at Maria-Star, the glint in her eyes making her own returned interest even clearer. "Whenever magic is tested, it will create a slight smell—not quite a burning scent, but almost as if incense had been lit. Come," she invited, gesturing for the Were to move closer to her.

"Here," she said, inhaling deeply once Maria-Star was well-placed— _very_ close to her own body.

"I can't smell anything beyond the magic itself."

"Concentrate at about a height of two feet," Padma further instructed, using her hands to move the Were's hips slightly.

Maria-Star leaned into the vampiress's gentle touch and inhaled deeply for a moment, and then her eyes widened. "Yes. I smell a difference."  
Padma smiled. "That difference occurs in several places around this circle, though the scent of struggle is the strongest here. The spell was a confinement barrier." She shook her head a little. "It was actually a beautiful piece of magic, designed to start larger and close in on its victim. That closing in would have led to Debbie passing out in the middle of the circle." Again, the vampiress inhaled deeply. "You said that you scented no V at Herveaux's home?"

"The slightest trace only," Maria-Star answered.

"V was recently taken upstairs," Padma stated.

"Yes," Maria-Star agreed. "I found an empty vial up in Debbie's little lair."

Padma nodded. "The werefox would have been stronger after she took it—crazed even. Yet the magic here had no difficulty holding her in. The warlock who set the spell is powerful, and he too has had V recently, though not as recently as Debbie."

"I don't smell that!" Maria-Star said.

"The V is thread into the magic itself," Padma shared. "I have smelled vampire essence in magic before, though such a thing is rare. The warlock who laid this spell is a strong Were, and he makes himself a stronger witch by taking V. As for why he abducted Debbie Pelt, I do not know. However, it is safe to assume that information is his goal. My best guess is that the warlock was not here for Debbie, but here to watch Sookie. I imagine that any plans he had to do so at a close range were thwarted—as soon as he noted her guard team. Perhaps, he knew about Sookie visiting the café recently and was here in case she returned. Perhaps, he has some kind of magical surveillance over this place. Perhaps, he has figured out a way to track Sookie once she is beyond the barriers of her property. Debbie was likely an interesting—but unexpected—find for him."

Maria-Star's eyes widened. "So there is a magical threat of some kind to Miss Stackhouse?"

Padma shrugged. "As I said, it is just a guess."

"But it is a good one," Maria-Star commented, only then moving away from Padma's slight grip upon her hips.

"The warlock is arrogant and likely rather inexperienced, despite his natural ability and strength," the vampiress shared, even as she missed the feeling of the Were's warmth so close to her body.

"How do you know that?" Maria-Star asked.

"He did nothing to cover his tracks here, nor do I smell any magical traps of any kind. Likely, he didn't worry in the least that you or Sookie's other guards would pick up his scent in this place. Clearly, that was a miscalculation. The magic is fresh and contained to just this immediate area, and—if Amelia Broadway has the skill of ectoplasmic reconstruction—then finding out what occurred here, as well as what the warlock looks like—will be a simple matter."

Maria-Star nodded her head. She had been texting as Padma had been speaking.

Not thirty seconds later, there was an answering text.

"Thalia will send Amelia."

Padma nodded. "Have her bring a sketchpad and charcoals."

Maria-Star looked confused for a moment. "Charcoals?"

"I draw—well," Padma informed matter-of-factly. "And charcoal is my preferred medium. I will be able to draw the man I see during the reconstruction."  
Clearly impressed, Maria-Star texted again. "You are full of surprises."

"So—do you need to get back to Herveaux's home?" Padma asked the Were.

"No. Thalia scoped out Herveaux's residence and agreed with my assessment. She left a couple of the Colonel's people in place there. It looks like Debbie's long gone. I found none of her possessions there, and now it seems clear that someone abducted her."

"Then, you can keep me company until the witch arrives?" Padma questioned.

Maria-Star smirked. "You have something in mind to keep us busy?"

"I have an idea or two," Padma flirted.

Just then, the back door opened and Bubba stepped in. "Well—howdy do, ladies!" he enthused.

Maria-Star rolled her eyes. "I thought the story of you being a cock-blocker was just an exaggeration," she intoned under her breath.

Bubba clearly missed the remark—or, at least, its meaning.

Padma, however, was close enough to Maria-Star to chuckle at that intonation. "So—how did the tracking go, Bubba?" she asked. She'd grown quite fond of Bubba, though she could already tell that he had many limitations. However, tracking wasn't one of them."

"You was right, Miss Maria-Star. The trail left by Debbie and the stranger Were is real faint in the alleyway out back—just like you said it would be, but I was able to follow it a bit."

"How far?" Maria-Star asked.

"Well—uh they went south from here for two blocks and then turned right. But that's a more crowded street, and I lost 'em after one more block." He shook his head apologetically. "I tried everythin' I could think of to pick back up the scent."

"You did fine, Bubba," Padma said with a comforting, sweet smile before winking at Maria-Star. "Why don't you make your way back to the farmhouse? We'll be here for a while yet."

"Okay, Miss Padma," he grinned. "See ya soon."

He left as quickly as he came.

"Now, where were we?" Padma smiled at Maria-Star, even as she walked closer to her.

"You were about to kiss me," the Were stated matter-of-factly.

"That's right," Padma grinned before doing just that.

* * *

 **COLONEL FLOOD POV**

Colonel James Flood had not been pegged as a leader when he was a small child. He had not even been the first-born in his family. Indeed, the fact that he could shift at all was viewed by the Were community as a minor miracle, given the fact that only first-borns generally shifted. Some pack members had spread the rumor that his mother had something "else" in her. Witch maybe? A smidgen of fairy blood, perhaps? However, his parents had quashed such gossip, pointing to the fact that both were from incredibly strong _Were_ families. Indeed, the strength within his mother's family was legendary! For good measure, his parents also made sure to cite other examples—rare as they were—of a second-born shifting.

James and his older brother Dale hadn't learned that his parents were lying about their lineage until his mother had whispered to them on her death bed that her paternal great-grandmother was half Dae. James had been fifteen, while his brother had just turned seventeen. According to their father, the usually strong scent of the Dae had been covered up by the even stronger Were scent in their mother's family.

However, the family had chosen to hide what they were for the sake of acceptance. Weres were generally unbending when it came to accepting outsiders—even those from neighboring Were packs. The Weres that married humans, such as Tray Dawson had once done, were often expelled from packs—or pressured to leave them due to blatant prejudice or the mistreatment of the human spouse. "Sanctioned" marriages between packs were okay—just to make sure the packs didn't become inbred, such as the Hot Shot group had done. However, such arrangements were almost always made by pack elders. Or—if the young Weres of different packs petitioned to be married—sometimes the elders would agree if a dowry was paid from the male's pack to the female's, for the female was always absorbed by her husband's pack, with her allegiances immediately changing.

In many ways, the pack mentality had stayed stuck in Medieval thinking.

Thus, a Were with demon blood would _not_ have been looked upon favorably because of his or her so-called lack of "purity."

James's own body had taught him to believe differently. The Dae genes within him had allowed him to shift, after all! His DNA had given him strength _because_ he had been of mixed blood. And his brother, Dale Avery, was even stronger than he was! Indeed, Dale was the packmaster of the group that James had grown up in: the Blood Claw pack in Pensacola, Florida. The Blood Claws were the largest group of Weres in the Southeast. And, just as their father had once done, his brother ran them with skill. He was also quite progressive when it came to how he dealt with interbreeding and women's rights.

Dale and he had developed a strong respect for women by watching their strong mother, who had chosen a strong mate who embraced her as a true partner and whom she'd trusted enough to tell about her mixed lineage. Indeed, the colonel's own marriage mirrored—in many ways (including his transparency about his Dae blood)—the one he'd seen from his parents.

James had considered rejoining his brother in Pensacola as his years of active duty in the Air Force waned; however, in another anomaly, he and his brother were both alphas, which was—again—not generally seen among the children of a single Were male, even when those children had different mothers and could all shift.

To Dale's credit, he'd recognized his brother's promise and encouraged it, rather than trying to stifle it out of jealousy. James had eventually seen his path to leadership in the military and had become a career soldier. In the Air Force, he'd excelled, rising higher in rank than another other Were ever had achieved in that branch of the service, though a few Weres had become Marine and Army generals. Obviously, one of the reasons why Weres didn't often rise too far in rank stemmed from their "limitations" during the full moon, though Weres had certainly become experts at concealing their true natures even during deployments. Another reason for most Weres getting stuck at Sergeant or below related to their hotheadedness. To put it bluntly, Weres could be aggressive assholes, and their non-Were C.O.s didn't take kindly to even a hint of defiance, though they loved the aggression Weres brought to any battle field. That was the reason why most Weres chose the Army or the Marines—to be on a field and facing an enemy head-on when they fought. James had chosen the Air Force because he wanted to soar above the fields.

Plus, the colonel had always been able to balance his aggressions with his intellect. Again, he speculated that this control had to do with his mixed blood.

When his Air Force career had been transitioning from combat pilot to leadership—as well as Stateside fulltime—he had used that intellect to get himself stationed at Barksdale because he knew that the Long Tooth pack of Shreveport had many military members. And he already had connections in the pack, as well as the respect of some of the pack members. Taking over from Packmaster Larrabee, who had developed a rare and debilitating heart disease (at least rare among Weres), James had earned—through battle—his right to be the packmaster of the Long Tooth pack not long after he'd been stationed to oversee Barksdale.

Yes—he'd _earned_ his current position, fighting Patrick Furnan for the right. And kicking his ass!

And that was before anyone knew that his brother was also a well-known and well-respected packmaster. Indeed, that was why James Flood went by his mother's maiden name and not his father's surname. He never wanted the fact that he was of the "Avery" family to give him any advantages.

In the Air Force, he'd earned his own way. And he'd done the same with the Long Tooth pack. Few had questioned him. And he'd even been the choice of the Larrabee family, from which the packmasters of Long Tooth had come for the last three generations.

As promising as Christa Larrabee was at twelve years old, she had clearly not been old enough to vie for packmaster when James took it over. Moreover, she simply wasn't an Alpha, and the Long Tooths still had the common and enduring prejudice among Weres against female leadership. Of course, James was trying to do something about that—to move the needle when it came to the kind of respect that the women in his pack got. Oh—they were already well-respected as mothers and pack caretakers. But some women wanted—and were suited—for leadership. Maria-Star's excellence was going a long way toward accomplishing James's goal to make others recognize that.

James sighed. Packmaster Larrabee, who had finally succumbed to his heart disease the year before, had been a good man, though never quite the same after the death of his son Lieutenant Jeffrey Larrabee. Flood had known the young Lieutenant—as they had gone through basic training together and were both piloting F-16s in the same squad at the time of Jeffrey's death. Jeffrey had been Packmaster Larrabee's only son, though he'd fathered several shifting daughters, including one with his first wife, who had died at a relatively young age. Jeffrey was the child of Packmaster Larrabee and his second wife, Christine, who still served as an honorary Matriarch of the Long Tooth pack, alongside the colonel's wife, Maggie.

Indeed, Maggie had embraced Christine's mentorship, for—like the colonel himself—his wife understood the value of learning from those who were strong, as well as having admirable allies.

It was that philosophy that had brought the colonel to the situation that he was currently in. Unlike other Weres, including his brother to a certain extent, the colonel had no true prejudice toward vampires. Perhaps it was because he viewed the fact that he was of mixed race as such a fundamental part of himself, while his brother had merely accepted the information with neutrality.

For James, that knowledge had affected him in different ways, including giving him a kind of empathy for vampires that Weres didn't often have. Arguably, all vampires were of mixed race—retaining elements of humanity, even though they were changed by magic into a different type of being. Every single vampire the colonel had ever known seemed to be balancing those two sides of his or her nature. And the colonel truly respected the vampires who found appreciation and benefit from _both_ of their lineages.

One such vampire was Eric Northman. Indeed, of all the vampires he'd known, James respected Northman the most. Not only did he run his territory with strength and fairness, but also he didn't treat Weres—at least not the ones worthy of his respect—with the same kind of patronizing attitude that vampires were almost always guilty of.

And the colonel also empathized with Sookie Stackhouse, though he hadn't known her for very long. Like him, she'd had to come to terms with learning that she was mixed species when she was older; indeed, she was "worse off" than he had been in a way. He'd, at least, learned about his Dae blood while he was still in his teenaged years—before he reached adulthood. According to Maria-Star, Sookie had learned about her own Fae heritage only very recently, and she was 25!

However, she'd embraced that heritage—after taking only a bit of time to accept it. Indeed, he felt a little jealous of her for being willing to let people she trusted know that she had both human and Fae blood. It made him wish that more people knew about his own dual heritage; after all, he was proud of it!

Of course, the colonel had told his wife, Maggie—before he asked her to be his bride. And their children knew. But—beyond his family—no one knew that the colonel was of mixed blood. Simply put—if they did—neither his brother nor himself would have been allowed to continue as packmasters. As much as the colonel hated that fact, it was just a truth about his kind. Pack leaders like he and his brother might have been pushing progressive ideas among their packs, but none would have listened to them if they'd known that they had Dae blood.

"You've got a call, James," Maggie said, breaking the colonel from his reverie.

"Where's Alcide?" he asked.

"Still outside, surveying the site for the new building. I'm having him draw up something for a new kennel, too."

James smiled at his wife and pulled her into a hug. "You are one crafty woman—you know that?"

Of course, she knew that Alcide's invitation to their home was a ruse to keep him away from his own residence as Northman and his people investigated Debbie Pelt's whereabouts. He always kept his brilliant mate in the loop.

"You know it," Maggie smirked.

"Is it Northman on the phone?" he asked.

Maggie nodded. "He apologized for not calling you on your cell, but he knows our landline is more secure. He also knows that your study is soundproof."

The colonel nodded.

"What do you think is going to happen?" Maggie asked with some concern in her voice. The colonel knew that, like him, Maggie had seen promise in Alcide Herveaux. It was too bad that the young man was proving to be foolhardy.

James sighed. "I don't know, but taking him under my wing to be my right-hand man isn't gonna be happening anymore—no matter how much I like Jackson or how strong I think Alcide could become."

Maggie nodded. "That ship has sailed. I just hope he gets to live through this."

"That will depend upon the vampire on the phone," James said, moving to leave the living room.

"Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes," Maggie informed, giving him a slight pat on his ass as he passed her.

The colonel growled playfully. "You'll pay for that later, woman!"

"A promise?" she asked coyly.

"A guarantee," he returned before walking briskly to his study. He closed the door, locked it, turned on the noise-making machine that added even more security to the room, and then picked up the phone.

"Sheriff," he greeted.

"Packmaster."

"So? Am I about to feed Alcide his last meal?" James asked, cutting right to the chase.

"From the scents in Herveaux's home, it seems clear that Debbie has been there for a while, but not sleeping in his bed."

"So he was giving her a place to hide out," James sighed.

"That part is clear. Still, I think that—at least today—Debbie was stalking Herveaux as much as she was Sookie at Bob's Diner. And it seems that she had all of her belongings in a storage locker at a city pool nearby Herveaux's home. Thalia found them there earlier, but Debbie hasn't returned for them. The working theory is that Herveaux thought that Debbie was leaving town, but, instead, she clearly decided to keep her self-created vendetta with Sookie alive."

"So you think Debbie told Alcide she was leaving town?" the colonel asked hopefully.

"Perhaps. There was also the scent of magic in the abandoned office building that Debbie was using to stalk Alcide and Sookie. We had thought that Debbie might have been working with a Were-witch and, perhaps, influencing Herveaux with magic to help her. However, it now seems clear that Ms. Pelt was abducted by the warlock responsible for the magic."

"A Were-witch?" Jack asked with concern.

"Yes. Warn your people to keep their eyes and ears open for anything suspicious on that front."

"I know of only one Were-witch, and that is a female, Hallow Stonebrook," Jack remarked. "A few years ago, she tried to extort my brother's pack for a lot of money in exchange for not fucking up their businesses. Dale refused, saying that he'd rather have his pack decimated than cower to her. Once she knew she wouldn't get her way and learned that Dale's people were closing in on discovering her lair, she moved on. He found her to be erratic, but ultimately cowardly."

"I have heard of her too. And I will know _everything_ possible about her soon enough," the vampire stated determinedly.

"I'll contact Dale and ask him to email me his reports surrounding that time. I'll get them to you by tomorrow night."

"I would be grateful," the vampire responded. "We will be there to question Alcide in thirty minutes—if that is agreeable."

"You and Thalia?"

"No. Sookie and I will be doing the questioning, though Thalia and a few other guards will be accompanying us."

"Maria-Star?"

"Currently on location in Debbie's lair across from Bob's Diner. A trusted witch has just arrived on site there to try to get an exact sense of what happened. Colonel, if Herveaux knew that Debbie was watching—or if he told her where Sookie would be . . . ." The vampire stopped midsentence.

"You'll have to kill him," the colonel stated calmly. "Yes. I know."

"Will you and I," the sheriff paused, "have a disagreement about that?"

"You'll be doing what I would do if I were in your shoes and someone gave an enemy access to Maggie in _any_ way," James returned. "So—no. There will be no disagreement on this matter."

"That is agreeable to hear. Still, Sookie hopes it won't come to his death," the vampire relayed.

"And you?"

There was a moment of silence. "I once thought I could trust Alcide with work— _important_ work. At times, he has proven to be honorable and competent; at others, he has been found lacking and extremely prejudiced. Plus, he seems to have a kind of obsession with Sookie, though she has made clear that she doesn't return his amorous feelings. If you are asking what I'd prefer, it would be a world without such a two-faced Were in it. No offense."

"None taken," James chuckled at the vampire's phrasing before becoming serious again. "You still have an invitation into my home."

"You are Were. I don't need one," the vampire returned with a chuckle of his own.

"And yet I am proud to continue issuing it. We'll see you in half an hour," the colonel added before hanging up.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all! First of all, thanks to everyone who read my other story,** _ **The Journey Itself**_ **. It is now finished, so if anyone wants to check it out (who didn't want to have to wait between chapters), I hope you will do so; it is "all human," however, and I know that some of you don't prefer those. Still, if you have some time and are willing to give it a chance, that would be awesome!**

 **I hope that you enjoyed this latest chapter of** _ **The Engine**_ **. It's so nice to be back posting this story. In this chapter, I wanted to do a couple of things—explore a couple of supporting characters and advance a couple of plot points without creating any plot holes. This Eric is cognizant of how killing Alcide might affect his relationship with the Weres, who are an important part of Sookie's guard team, so meeting Flood is important; plus, I wanted to make sure that I depicted Eric as being very smart about his relationships to other beings. In addition, in the books, Sookie is named "friend of the pack" because she tells Alcide about the were-witch coven. Obviously, this story is not going in that direction. And—to be frank—I always wondered about that status being granted so quickly in the books, so I wanted to give Flood a backstory that would justify a feeling of "kinship" between him and Sookie. They are both of "mixed blood," something that clearly makes both of them stronger, not weaker. This glimpse at Colonel Flood was meant to offer, in a related way, more insight into Sookie's journey as she accepts her "mixed blood." And I also wanted for you to get to know Padma a bit—since she's a "Kat creation" in this story. I know that some readers don't love my development of side characters; however, offering Padma's perspective was also a way to convey what Sookie and Eric's team had found out about Debbie and the witches without needing to take Eric and Sookie to the scene unnecessarily. Also, to be frank, I wanted you to get to know some of Sookie's guards because—once the real fighting begins—it won't seem significant if they are in danger if you don't care about them. Moreover, I had fun giving Maria-Star a bit of a love interest, as well as offering an inside joke to book readers about Bubba's "interrupting" abilities. I hope you liked everything! Next week, we'll see Alcide's interrogation.**

 **Please leave me a comment if you have the time and/or inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	17. Chapter 16: We're Comin' in Loaded

**Chapter 16: We're Comin' in Loaded**

The last five minutes had been a blur for Alcide Herveaux. One moment, he'd been showing Colonel Flood some sketches for a new outbuilding and kennel, and the next he was in the powerful grasp of Eric Northman—a grasp which he'd been unable to get out of.

Eric had sped him to the colonel's barn, where he'd tied him to a chair with silver chains. The most surreal part had been how the colonel had helped with the chains, even as Sookie and the Colonel's wife, Maggie, had looked on almost indifferently!

"Comfy?" Northman asked as he leaned casually against one of the barn's thick beams.

"Fuck you!" Alcide growled out. "Colonel, what the fuck is goin' on here?"

"Debbie Pelt," Colonel Flood answered simply.

Alcide felt his stomach drop, and he tensed against his chains. "What about her?" he asked, trying to infuse his voice with innocence.

"Don't!" Sookie ordered, stepping toward him. "Don't you dare lie, Alcide Herveaux! If you do, there will be no way you live through this night, and—despite the fact that I'm still angry at you for even suggesting that you could arrange for my bond with Eric to be broken—I truly don't want you to commit suicide by lying to us!"

"Sookie, please. Just look at what he's doing!" Alcide yelled out, offering the vampire a raging glare.

"He is currently refraining from killin' you, Son," Colonel Flood warned.

"I knew you were too tied to your allegiance with him and the other blood suckers!" Alcide charged. "I shoulda gone with Furnan!"

Sookie scoffed. "I said don't lie, Alcide. You hate Patrick Furnan, and you know it. Don't forget that I can read your mind."

"Alcide, you need to calm down and stop making the situation worse for yourself," Maggie cautioned.

"I can't believe that you're condoning this, Mrs. Flood! Taking a vamp's side over mine!" Alcide accused, shaking his head at both the packmaster and his wife.

"You're the one who's dug your hole," Colonel Flood reminded.

"You sure you want to witness this?" Eric intoned, directing his question toward everyone in the barn—except for Alcide. Nonetheless, the chained-up Were growled in response.

Colonel Flood sighed. "Maybe Alcide's a fool, but he's one of mine. And me and Maggie would both like to see Miss Stackhouse work—if that's agreeable, ma'am."

"Of course," Sookie said kindly, even as she took another step toward Alcide. "Eric and I are gonna question you, and you need to tell us the _whole_ truth—with nothing extra, like attacks against Eric's character, thrown in."

"And if I don't?" Alcide asked belligerently.

"If you try to pull your usual crap about Eric being _so_ bad for me or me not knowin' how to make my own choices, then I'm gonna have to hit you again. This is your _only_ warning, Alcide: If you lie, I'm gonna leave this barn, have Thalia come in and glamour you, and then enjoy some tea with Maggie while you're questioned and then executed right here and now."

"You listening to this?" Alcide asked his packmaster.

"And endorsing it," the colonel said stiffly, his chin pushed forward.

"Well—now that everyone understands what's going to happen, let's begin," Eric said, addressing Alcide again. He pulled up a chair and set it in front of Alcide's.

"Sookie?" he offered the seat.

"I'll stand," the telepath said, her voice confident.

"All right, then," Eric said spinning the chair around and sitting down in front of Alcide. He leaned forward against the back of the chair and tilted his head a bit to the side—studying the Were for a moment. "Tell me why Debbie Pelt has been in your home—as recently as this morning."

Alcide growled, wanting to defy the vampire. But he wasn't completely without self-preservation.

"She came to me—not long after I got back to Shreveport from Jackson. She'd just been expelled from Mississippi and told me that her life would be forfeit in Area 5 if she was found."

"And yet she came straight to you—in _my_ area," the vampire observed, his voice icy.

"She was looking for a safe place to lie low, and to," Alcide paused, "detox."

"And she succeeded," Sookie half-asked and half-informed, having followed the Were's thoughts as Eric had been questioning him.

"Yes," Alcide confirmed.

"Would it surprise you, then, to know that her scent was discovered in the office building across from Bob's Diner? Would it surprise you to know that the scent of V was also found there? That she'd clearly taken a vial of it?" Eric asked, resting his chin on the back of the chair.

"What?" Alcide returned, his voice stormy.

"He had no idea that she was there, and he really did think she was done with V. He opened up his home to her because he wanted to," Sookie paused, closing her eyes for a moment to concentrate harder on his thoughts, "save her from herself."

"You fashion yourself as quite the savior of women," Eric observed coolly.

"If you're talkin' about the fact that I want to save Sookie from _you_ , then you've hit the fuckin' bullseye!" Alcide spit out.

"I would tell you that Sookie needs no saving from me, but I should not have to—considering that she told you that _herself_ ," Eric commented, looked up at the telepath with affection. He reached out one of his hands, which she quickly took. "She clearly doesn't need me to speak her thoughts on the matter, though you seem unable to respect her words and wishes."

"She doesn't know what you are," Alcide growled.

"I _do_ know," Sookie said firmly. "You're the only one confused here, Alcide. And you're makin' a heck of a lot of assumptions about me, given that we haven't spent a whole lot of time together."

"I didn't need a lot—to know how special you are. Sook, you deserve so much more than a blood sucker!" Alcide pleaded.

Sookie shook her head, unwilling to listen to the stubborn Were's attacks upon her bonded. She knew that the only way to save his life would be to get him to focus. "Did you know that Eric had issued an edict that _anyone_ who aided or abetted Debbie in Area 5 would be killed?" she asked.

"Yes," Alcide said defiantly.

"Did you know that she's one of the reasons I have had to live with a constant guard presence in my life since I got back from Jackson?"

Alcide looked momentarily guilty. "I'm sorry, Sookie. But Debbie wanted to change, and—with our history—I _had_ to give her that chance. But she was gonna leave today. She had a pack that was gonna take her in up north."

"What pack?" Colonel Flood asked.

"I don't know exactly, but it's in Idaho," Alcide informed.

"He knew he'd be screwed if Debbie was found at his house, but he let her stay regardless—and for a lot longer than he'd initially intended. He was happy that she was getting clean. But he was also happy to see her go this morning," Sookie informed. "He isn't lying."

" _You_ are the one that's lied! You once told me that you could barely hear me!" Alcide accused the telepath.

"I've grown a lot—in both my ability and my attitude—since I first met you," Sookie shared.

"And it doesn't have to do with the vamp blood you reek of?"

"Oh—it likely has to do with that too," Sookie said, winking at Eric and squeezing his hand. "But—mainly—I've been gettin' better because I've been practicing. In fact, I'm practicing right now—on you!" Sookie said somewhat defiantly.

"You're gonna get yourself killed by foolin' around with creatures that are stronger than you," Alcide warned.

"Who defines strength anyway?" Maggie scoffed. "From where I'm standin', Sookie looks pretty damned strong. And, if the people she works for are smart, they'll want her as a long-term ally, and that will mean that the strongest of those she works with—and the most honorable—will also offer her a layer of protection," she added sagely.

"Thank you, Ma'am. And that's the plan," Sookie confirmed, looking back to smile at the woman.

"Is there anything else you can think of about your behavior recently that we need to know?" Eric asked.

"Fuck you!" Alcide growled. "You're just gonna kill me anyway. Isn't that what you want? To make sure Sookie doesn't wake up and come to me for protection from you?!"

Sookie quickly removed her hand from Eric's. In the next second, a loud punch was heard in the room, and Alcide's chair toppled over.

Eric smirked up at Sookie as she cradled her hand. "Am I going to need to heal that again, Dearest One?"

"Maybe," Sookie half-chuckled and half-cringed in pain.

"Well—what's the damage. Other than Sookie's hand and Alcide's eye?" the colonel asked as he roughly righted Alcide's chair.

Eric sighed and looked at Sookie. "Abjuring him would hurt Jackson Herveaux, and I've come to appreciate him. But an example needs to be made of him." The vampire rose from his chair and went over to check his mate's hand. Tenderly, he brought it to his lips. "It's not broken, and the blood I gave you earlier is already healing it."

"What if I want more anyway?" Sookie asked coyly and quietly, though all the Were ears could certainly hear her.

"Greedy," Eric observed with a purr. "I love it."

Sookie giggled as Eric gently brought her hand up to kiss it once more. Unfortunately, the intimacy of the moment was broken as Alcide growled.

The vampire turned his attention to the chained Were with the blackening eye. "You can live or die, Herveaux. Tonight, I'm putting that choice into _your_ hands."

"What's the catch?" Alcide asked.

"If you choose death, I will kill you quickly, and not a goddamned thing will happen to me because you broke a known edict that I issued _and_ your own packmaster endorsed. And you knew that you were doing it! Still—I'll kill you quickly for the sake of my bonded. On the other hand, if you choose life, I intend to keep you in silver chains for a month. You will _drink_ what limited meals Pam decides to allow you through a straw. You will shit and piss on yourself because you won't be afforded the dignity of being unchained for bathroom breaks. You will sleep in your filth. You will endure being chained when your body craves to shift at the full moon. Your muscles will atrophy because you will not be able to move much. You will develop sores all over your body, and they will become infected by the end of your month in my care. You will likely have moments—long ones—when you doubt your sanity. You will not be allowed daylight—or even a sense of the time or the days, for Pam will likely send a human in to feed and water you through your straw. That human will not speak with you, even if you beg to hear another voice other than your own. You will growl and weep in turns. You will hallucinate. After a while, the stress upon your body will make it difficult for you to hold down even your meagre rations, and you will eventually vomit most of what you choke down. And you will live in that filth, too. However, you will not be beaten or killed— _not this time_. After that, you will again hold your fate in your hands, for if you _ever_ have _any_ sort of contact with Sookie after you are released at the end of your miserable month, you _will_ be killed. And I will be the one to do it. And—by the time I am done with you—you will crave the kind of month you are about to endure, for it will seem like paradise compared to the torture I will do to your body."

"I can't believe you can just listen to this? That you could let this happen?" Alcide accused first Sookie and then the others watching.

"The sheriff is being generous; no other vampire I know would let you live. And he's right that I wouldn't make any waves if he killed you right now; I told him as much earlier. He's offering you another chance, Alcide," Colonel Flood stated. "If you think you can survive that chance, you should take it with a 'thank you,' not scorn and disrespect. And—if you hold _any_ bitterness once you're released—if you undermine me _or_ Northman in any way—you _will_ be abjured. If he doesn't kill you first."

Alcide shook his head in disbelief.

"Take the month and learn from it," Maggie entreated.

"Please," Sookie followed up.

"Surely, you can see what a monster he is now—based on what he wants to do to me," Alcide implored.

"He's no monster, Alcide," Sookie stated firmly. "He pulled me from a trunk with a rabid vampire that would have turned me. Be grateful for your month; Bill would have given me _lifetimes_ of emotional torture. And the woman _you've_ been helping shoved me into that trunk!"

"But she was on V— _vampire_ blood," he emphasized.

"She chose her path, Alcide. And, by stalking me today, she's tempted fate for the last time. If she had simply left the state—as she'd told you she was going to do—neither you nor she would have been in any trouble. I'm sorry that you chose to help her, though I can understand that you did it because a part of you still loves her, but Eric can't simply let this slide. And you _know_ that! You're thinkin' that even now, so stop bein' a damned fool! Despite your protests and your prejudices, you _know_ that he _should_ kill you tonight. But he's not going to have to."

"So he's decided?" Eric asked.

"Yes," Sookie sighed. "But he's too damned stubborn to ask you for his life." She turned to her vampire. "Make sure he does— _ask you_ —before you give it to him," she added forcefully.

Eric nodded.

"One last thing," Sookie said, turning back to Alcide. "You mentioned that you could have a witch break my bond with Eric at lunch," she said, spitting out the words as if they were foul. "What witch?"

"I—uh—I heard about a powerful one in New Orleans."

"Did you contact her?" Sookie asked.

"No," Alcide admitted. "But her name is Octavia Fant, and if you ever need to . . . ."

Sookie used the grace granted to her by Eric's blood—as well as the stomping techniques she'd witnessed many times at Merlotte's—to stamp Alcide in the nuts.

Hard.

As the Were yelped in pain, the telepath looked back at her smirking mate.

"Remind me never to piss you off," the vampire said, his eyebrow raised.

"Just never threaten our bond, and you'll be alright."

His face became serious, and he leaned down to kiss her. "I will only ever protect something so precious to me, Dearest One."

"So will I," the telepath promised softly.

"How's your foot?" Eric asked, touching her cheek lightly. Both were ignoring the whimpering Were.

"I might need more blood after all," Sookie cringed.

"Looking forward to it," the vampire flirted.

His whimpering turning to a coughing fit, Alcide regained the couple's attention.

"I'm gonna go have some of that tea with Maggie and call Maria-Star to see how things went with Amelia at the office building," Sookie said with a sigh of regret as she looked at the man she'd hoped—just that morning—could be a friend to her.

Feeling her sadness, but also her resolution and her love for him, the vampire nodded.

Sookie leaned up and kissed Eric softly. "Thank you. What you're gonna do to him is horrible, and it's gonna take him a long time to get over it—if he ever does—but I can sense that you would prefer killing him. So—thank you."

Limping slightly, Sookie went over to where the Were matriarch stood.

"You did all you can for him," Maggie assured the telepath comfortingly. She looked at Alcide. "Now, do what you can for _yourself_ , Alcide. James and I will be waiting with Dr. Ludwig for you when you are freed, and I'll make sure you get the treatment that you need to get back on your feet."

With one last pitying look in Alcide's direction, Sookie left with Maggie.

"My dad," Alcide grunted, finally capable of speaking again and _finally_ finding a thought that went beyond his perceived unfairness of his situation.

"I won't let him put himself back into a bottle," the packmaster declared. "And I'll make sure he has help with Herveaux and Son. Your company won't go under while you're away. I promise you that."

"I still can't believe you're goin' along with him," Alcide said, shaking his head.

"What you need to _start_ believing is _your_ blame in this matter," Colonel Flood warned. "If you don't, you'll come out of your chains with revenge on your mind. And if you do that, Son, you won't last long past the healing Maggie makes sure you get."

"And we wouldn't want to waste her time—now would we?" Eric asked sarcastically.

Alcide looked at the vampire with hatred in his eyes.

"You don't have to _beg_ for your life," Eric said coldly, "but you _are_ going to have to ask me for it."

Alcide looked—for a moment—as if he might try to spit into the vampire's face and, therefore, seal his own doom.

But, instead, he swallowed hard, though he stubbornly didn't swallow his pride. "I'll take life, vampire," he snarled.

" _Ask_ me," Eric said, sitting back into his chair as if he had all night.

"I did," Alcide returned.

"No. You told me," Eric smirked. "There's a difference. Now _ask_ —before I change my mind about making you beg!"

"Will you let me live?" Alcide managed to get out, though it seemed like the words pained him both physically and mentally.

"I will," Eric said, standing up. "Tray!" he yelled out.

The Were hurried into the barn. "Yes?"

"Pam will be expecting you at Fangtasia. And make sure his chains stay tight; after all, he needs to get used to them being that way."

"Packmaster," Tray nodded at Colonel Flood respectfully before hauling Alcide to his feet. Although Alcide was taller than Tray, the latter had no trouble dragging Alcide out of the barn—though it was clear that Sookie's kick had given Alcide some trouble walking.

"If he gives you any shit, feel free to deliver him worse for wear," Eric said loudly—knowing that the Weres could still hear him.

Once Colonel Flood knew that they were out of range, he looked at Eric. "You didn't have to let him live. Even Sookie seemed to understand."

Eric shrugged. "In the end, Herveaux showed himself to be foolish, but not necessarily irredeemable. And you're a good packmaster. If there's a way to get him to get out of his own way so that he doesn't get himself killed, _you're_ the one to help him find it."

"A seemingly endless time to think might be the making of him," Colonel Flood suggested.

"Or it could drive him to ideas of vengeance or complete insanity," Eric responded, shaking his head. "For my bonded's sake, I hope he's correctable. Will you have blowback for this?"

"Honestly? Probably not, but I'll keep my ear to the ground. And I'll make sure that Jackson understands. He'll be hard hit, but he'll know that you're doin' him a favor."

"Sookie likes him," Eric commented. "And he does good work. Do you think you'll be able to keep him from destroying himself with liquor?"

Colonel Flood shrugged. "I'll do my best, and—truth be told—Jackson's in a pretty strong place right now. But the men in that family seem to have a fair dose of self-destructiveness, though I'd thought that trait had skipped Alcide until tonight." He sighed. "I'll let you know if I think Jackson's gonna be a problem though—especially since he's slated to do more work for you."

"The ill-intent spell the witch put on the property will keep him off of it if he decides that his son's punishment is worth doing something stupid for," the vampire said.

"Speaking of witches, I know of Octavia. Even if she could break a blood bond, she's not the kind that would do it—unless she had Sookie's permission."

"I know her too," the vampire shared. "And I certainly know enough to recognize that Herveaux was all talk when it came to her."

Colonel Flood nodded. "Shall we go join the women and figure out what needs to be done about the Debbie situation? I might also have an email from my brother waiting—regarding Hallow. When I called Dale, he said he'd get right on it."

Eric nodded in agreement and fell into step next to the Were packmaster.

* * *

 **A/N: Well—there you have Alcide's comeuppance. In this scene, I really wanted to show that Eric is being very straightforward about what he's planning for punishment—as well as Sookie's growth in accepting the practices of the Supernatural world. I also wanted to show Sookie's growth in her telepathic practice. Now that she sees it as a profession, she is no longer stifling that aspect of herself, and others are recognizing her worth (Maggie and Flood).**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Until next week,**

 **Kat**


	18. Chapter 17: The Walls Have Ears

**Chapter 17: The Walls Have Ears**

 **THURSDAY, JANUARY 20 (five days after the previous chapter)**

"Of course, Peter. I am very much looking forward to your visit. And Valentine's Day does make our rendezvous just that much more romantic," Queen Sophie-Anne Leclerq declared with a roll of her eyes before hanging up the phone with the Arkansas king.

Wybert raised his eyebrow at his queen and maker. "Why— _again_ —are you doing this?" he asked in impeccable English. Of course, most of the world, including King Peter Threadgill, thought that he and his brother had failed to master any language beyond their native Saxon. And even that one was in question to most people. However, the brothers were much more than they seemed at first glance, and they used their perceived brutishness to their advantage. So—if potential enemies took them for granted—then so much the better.

For _them_ —not their enemies.

"I'm starting to wonder that myself," Sophie-Anne sighed, "but things are already in motion, so I will need to play this out." She shrugged. "Look at it this way—if he has concealed motives for coming here . . . ."

"Like to deal _you_ the true death," Wybert interrupted.

"Yes. Like that," Sophie-Anne giggled. "If he tries anything, I'll get a second state out of the mix."

"We should not underestimate him," Wybert said cautiously. "He is young, but he didn't become the King of Arkansas by accident. And Jade Flower is also formidable."

"We will be cautious," Sophie-Anne assured the child who had become her chief confidant. That honor used to belong to Andre, but he was a little too secretive these days—a little too sure that his _own_ plans were better than his queen's.

Too arrogant for his own good.

For that reason, the queen had a trusted member of her court, Rasul, watching him. She hated doing that to her child, but he'd brought it upon himself, questioning her about Sookie Stackhouse one too many times and "blocking" her from his emotions or whereabouts more and more. As a maker—especially one with something of a telepathic connection with her children—Sophie-Anne tried to give her progeny freedom and even taught them how to use their own abilities to block her out when they needed privacy.

However, now she worried that she'd given Andre just enough rope to hang himself by. So—yes—she felt it was necessary to have him watched. And it did not hurt that Rasul was Eric's spy in her court as well—at least one of them. Oh—Rasul had been careful, and he'd never undermined his queen. He'd simply helped Eric to keep an eye on her, something that had actually always comforted Sophie-Anne in a way. It proved that Eric was a good sheriff, and—since she trusted him—she didn't mind that Rasul was reporting back to him on occasion. Indeed, a good spy could be used to clear up misunderstandings if he or she were put into the "right" situation to overhear something she wanted him or her to hear. As a bonus, if Andre caught Rasul following him, then he would simply believe that Eric—and not his maker—was spying upon him. Adding to the benefit, Rasul could report anything nefarious that Andre did directly to Eric, and then Sophie-Anne could confirm anything that Rasul also told her to the Viking. In other words, she could use Eric's own spy both to keep an eye on Andre herself without his becoming suspicious and to ensure that her relationship with her ablest sheriff stayed strong—as it always should have been.

She sighed.

"What is it?" Wybert asked.

"I hate feeling regret," she shared.

"Regret over listening to Andre?" the perceptive vampire asked his maker.

"Yes. At least, regarding Sookie. I should have simply contacted Sheriff Northman—just as soon as Hadley told us about her potentially telepathic cousin."

"You got greedy," Wybert stated matter-of-factly.

Sophie-Anne shrugged. "Yes. A little. But, given what Hadley told us about Sookie, I also really did think that a Southern gent sweeping her off her feet would make for good romance."

"Bill Compton is no gentleman," Wybert judged.

The queen nodded in agreement. "I did not know that he had the potential to become obsessive. Perhaps, given his maker's nature, I should have been more wary of him."

"He did put on a good act," Wybert allowed, "for many years."

"Yet you never trusted him fully," Sophie-Anne said, smiling at her child with pride. "I should learn to take your instincts as gospel, my child."

The modest Wybert preened a bit in jest, causing his maker to giggle.

Sophie-Anne's demeanor became more serious again. "Like you, Andre did caution against Peter. Of course, I don't know yet whether or not I should regret my decision to entertain a marriage contract with him. But with Oklahoma in the market to make a strong alliance, it seems prudent to solidify my strength."

"Especially with de Castro now eyeing Freyda?" Wybert asked.

"Yes. I think he is still enamored with the idea of controlling the casino industry all over the country. I don't trust him not to make a move on us. And—if he had a foothold in Oklahoma—he'd be," she paused, "too close."

"Having the telepath around will help to determine whether Peter is a friend or a foe."

Sophie-Anne nodded. "Hopefully, if there is anything amiss, Sookie will hear news of it from one of the humans or Weres Peter brings with him. Speaking of Sookie," she said, even as she dialed her phone.

"Sheriff Northman," she greeted as the Sheriff of Area 5 answered. "How are you this night?"

"I am as usual, my queen," Eric responded.

Sophie-Anne smirked. Eric always did deal with her with the perfect mixture of vagueness and humor.

"Any word on the missing Debbie Pelt?" she asked. "Or on the warlock that helped her?"

"Nothing beyond what Amelia Broadway and Octavia Fant were able to discover—the possible link to Hallow. Thank you, by the way, for lending us Octavia. She was dropped off safely at her home in New Orleans earlier today and was invaluable when it came to setting stronger protection spells around the office where Sookie spends some of her days now."

"I am glad you sought my counsel on the matter of the potential magical threat," the queen said sincerely.

Neither of them spoke aloud about the relief that mending the fences between them had brought—to them both.

Sophie-Anne frowned. "Hallow is a bad penny that I wish I could find—so that we could all be done with her for good; however, every time my people believe they have found her in Area 1, she is already gone."

"I am discovering a similar problem, your majesty."

"But Sookie is okay?" Sophie-Anne asked.

"We are all somewhat on edge because of the unknown elements, but there is still no indication that the warlock means Sookie any immediate harm. The ectoplasmic reconstruction did not show him having any outward interest in anyone beyond Debbie Pelt, and Amelia was able to recreate the warlock's entire trip to the area."

"Still, we will keep looking on our end. I've got Andre on it," she shared.

"You trust him with the task?" Eric asked.

"I do—to a certain extent. However, I am having him followed, too. If he has not yet accepted the fact that Sookie is yours and that she is not meant to live at court with us, then he could have employed Hallow to influence the situation. Still, he is my best tracker. If he is loyal to my wishes, he has the best chance of tracking the Were-witch down. If he is disloyal, he may lead my spy right to Hallow. It is a winning hand regardless."

"I hope so, my queen."

Sophie-Anne nodded in agreement, though the person she was speaking to could not see her. Still—the motion made her feel better about the situation. "I am calling because Peter Threadgill has finally set the date for his visit. And I would like to formally request your and Miss Stackhouse's presence at court during that time."

There was a beat of silence, during which Wybert and his maker shared a glance.

"You need only tell us the dates, Your Highness," Eric said.

Sophie-Anne gave her child a little nod.

"The Arkansas king has proposed a mini-summit beginning Saturday, February 12 and culminating on Monday, February 14—a Valentine's Night Ball—to solidify our 'engagement.'"

"And if there is no engagement?" Eric asked.

"There will be one—as long as we find nothing amiss. There is need for it," Sophie-Anne responded.

"Need?"

"Oklahoma is looking to align. That manipulative bitch is not powerful to do anything too problematic on her own. Thankfully, the Texas king already turned her down, but Nevada might find her geographical location beneficial if his ambitions become actions. Alternatively—if she were to hook Peter—he could be convinced to join forces with her and make a move on us. If Peter has no ulterior motives against me, linking with him is a strategically sound move."

"Freyda," Eric practically spit out.

"You've met her?"

"At the last summit that I attended in your stead," Eric responded. "She showed an interest in me."

"And how did you greet that interest?" Sophie-Anne asked.

"Freyda is a beautiful woman; however, she teems with a kind of frenetic desperation."

"Desperation for what?"

"Power. Protection. Acceptance among other monarchs due to her age and the shady way she went about taking the throne. She floated an idea to make me her consort so that I could act as her enforcer and personal protector."

Sophie-Anne and Wybert both let out a laugh. "I wish I had been a fly on the wall in order to see your reaction to that proposition!" the queen exclaimed.

"You know me well, my queen. However, I refrained from laughing in Freyda's face or doing anything that might have gotten me silvered. I simply told her that I was uninterested in becoming anybody's consort, nor would I ever consider such an offer. She was," he paused, "nonplussed. However, she still offered me a place in her bed that night."

"Did you take her up on that?" the queen asked curiously.

"No. I did not. I know better than to entangle myself with a monarch—as you well know, my queen."

Sophie-Anne giggled. "Despite my best efforts." She winked at Wybert, who rolled his eyes.

"If I were ever to have been tempted," Eric chuckled, "it would have been by you. But I am no one's court lackey. Nor would I enjoy being a . . . ." He paused, and Sophie-Anne heard a mumbled voice in the background.

Sookie's voice.

"Ah yes!" Eric said, clearly responding to the voice. "A boy toy is what my bonded has reminded me it is called."

"No better than a kept woman," Sookie intoned.

Sophie-Anne heard the telepath clearly that time and chuckled heartily. "Yes. You were more made to be a king and not a consort."

"And yet I would not want a monarch's role either, Majesty," Eric replied honestly.

Wybert nodded—as if in approval of Eric's words.

"Yes—and I am grateful for that," the queen commented. "You will tell me if that ever changes—correct? I could help you find a monarchy for yourself, and there would be no need to take mine?"

Eric chuckled. "There is only one reason I can think of that I would _not_ inform you first if I developed certain ambitions, Majesty."

Sophie-Anne laughed in return, despite the veiled threat. "Well—then—I shall simply never try to take away anything that rightly belongs to you, Sheriff. That way, we can both remain satisfied with where we stand."

"Indeed," Eric responded.

"Will you stay at the palace during the summit?" Sophie-Anne asked.

"Is that a requirement?" Eric queried in return.

"Of course not," the queen responded. "Indeed, I was going to suggest you stay at your residence in the French Quarter or the north guesthouse on my estate."

"The one with the tunnel from the palace?" Eric asked.

"Indeed," Sophie-Anne responded. "I'd even let your people change the code system so that you could control who can pass through the tunnel."

There was a moment of silence, and the queen wondered if there was a silent conversation going on at the other end of the phone.

"If it is agreeable, I will send two vampires and one Were to New Orleans to assess the situation tomorrow night," Eric requested. "One of the vampires will be Thalia."

"Thalia!" the queen responded with a little chuckle. "Well—then you will forgive me if I forgo _officially_ receiving your people at court. The situation with Thalia was not altogether pleasant, so a private audience seems," she paused, "safer—for others."

Wybert rolled his eyes again. He respected the ancient vampiress, Thalia, a great deal; however, the last—and only time—she'd ever been at court, she'd told two courtiers that they looked like professional ass polishers and asked their hourly rate.

It didn't matter to her that they were wealthy, important vampires in the state.

And—for the queen—it hadn't mattered that Thalia was being truthful. She'd still had quite a few feathers to unruffle after she'd sent Thalia on her way to Area 5. Of course, now she could laugh about the situation—and still had a hard time keeping a straight face in front of the "professional ass polishers."

"I'll make sure your people have access to all that they need and that their trip is off the books—so to speak," the queen assured.

"One vampire will be there specifically to check over the computer system for the tunnel system. If there is any way to override the security codes for the tunnel entrances, I would like for her to be told of it immediately."

"I can tell you that right now. There is not a way to override the codes—at least none that I know of," Sophie-Anne stated honestly. "However, if your vampire finds a back door into my security, I would like to be told of it— _immediately_."

"Who designed your system, Majesty? Who controls it?" Eric asked.

"Andre," Sophie-Anne responded, looking pensively at Wybert.

"Then, I will instruct Molly to tell you— _without_ Andre present—if there is anything amiss with your system," Eric said evenly.

"I do not wish to find out that Andre is keeping things from me, Eric. However, he has been acting with more secrecy lately," the queen conveyed somewhat hesitantly.

"Trust is a funny thing, Majesty," Eric said after a moment. "Pamela once betrayed my trust because she thought she knew better than I did about a situation."

"But she did not," Sophie-Anne ventured.

"No. But that would not have mattered anyway, given how direct I had been in my instructions to her."

"And your solution for her disobedience?" the queen asked.

"I placed her in silver for two nights," Eric said with a hint of sadness in his voice. "And then I expelled her from my side for one year's time. I was grateful when she anxiously returned to it after her exile was over."

"The separation hurt you as well?"

"Yes. But it strengthened us both, too. We ended up with a greater appreciation for one another. And she has never gone against me like that again."

"Repercussions with the punishment?"

"Few. She was hesitant about offering me her counsel for a few years, but—eventually—she found the right balance between disagreeing with my decisions and acting upon her disagreement."

"And she remained loyal," the queen observed.

"Absolutely."

"That is a heartening thought," Sophie-Anne stated.

"Your Majesty, if anyone, _including Andre_ , directly threatens my bonded . . . ," Eric began.

"Then I would have no chance to exile Andre because he would be truly dead already—at your hand," Sophie-Anne acknowledged.

"Yes," Eric said.

"I understand," the queen said. "And I will be expecting your group tomorrow night."

She hung up and looked at her most-trusted child.

"What will you do about Andre? Sheriff Northman _will_ end him if he is committing misdeeds, even if he intends for them to benefit you," Wybert observed.

"I have a plan that will keep Andre alive," the queen sighed. "But it will, perhaps, cost me much to enact it."

Wybert could see that his maker was upset by the notion of whatever plan she had, so he did not ask her more.

The queen's phone beeped, and she looked down to check the text.

"Rasul is reporting that Andre has left the palace; he is following, but fears that Andre will detect him, given the fact that they are headed toward a rather rural area."

"If Rasul is worried, then he is correct to be," Wybert agreed. "Andre would likely pick up Rasul's scent—and find it suspicious—if he pursued him out of the city."

"I'll tell him to back off for now," the queen said, quickly returning the text. "Contact Octavia Fant. Now that she is back in New Orleans, I want to look into getting Rasul some scent concealer if Andre is going to be going to places where a tail could be easily discovered."

"His even going to such places is suspicious," Wybert stated.

"Or he may be innocent—merely doing his work. He may have a lead on Hallow's coven," the queen said after a moment. "And I will give him the benefit of the doubt—until it is time to pull on the rope that I am giving him."

* * *

Andre retraced his path a few times to make sure that he was not being followed before he finished the trip to Hallow's current lair, which was in an old, rundown plantation house about twenty miles north of New Orleans. He looked around at the old property with a sense of nostalgia, for he had enjoyed the period of history when such estates were pristine-looking and grand. Of course, the humans were also employing the practice of slavery at that time, which neither he nor his maker had abided—not that they could do anything to interfere with the practice, beyond buying many slaves for their own estates and treating them the same as any other human they employed. Sophie-Anne's preference was to buy whole families—with the express purpose of keeping them together. She had even convinced Russell Edgington to follow the same practice.

Just like those of the white and Native American races, those of African descent who were tasty were glamoured and kept as donors, but they were not treated badly. And those that had normal-tasting blood might work in the fields that Sophie-Anne owned at the time, but they were also paid a fair wage and given housing that was comfortable. Sophie-Anne also always made sure that all of her workers had the opportunity for an education—if they wished it—and the choice to leave the South once they had worked for a certain number of years to offset her initial payment for them. Indeed, Andre had arranged for about half a dozen of their workers to get to the North safely.

Sophie-Anne, likely because of her own background, detested the misuse of humans against their will. Indeed, more than once, Andre found her glamouring plantation owners who had a reputation for cruelty, including the slave owner who had once been the master of the very plantation house that he was currently entering.

She had not so radically glamoured him as to free his slaves, for such a thing—if it occurred often enough—would have brought suspicion to her region. However, the plantation owner did "reform his ways due to religion," and he became known for treating his slaves well and hiring overseers who would do the same.

"Something has you amused," Hallow remarked as she approached the vampire.

"A memory of this place," Andre answered vaguely. "Have you heard from Compton?"

Hallow frowned and shook her head. "No. However, I had not expected to. When he called from the Philippines, he made it clear that he would be out of touch until early February, but that he would return with Appius around the tenth."

Andre considered for a moment. "If that comes to pass, it will be useful for us. However, regardless, things will be coming to a head on the 14th of February."

"Valentine's Day?" Hallow asked, the interest clear in her tone.

"Yes," Andre confirmed as he silently judged the witch in front of him. She was useful enough, but he found her obsession with Northman a pitiable flaw. Indeed, her fixation for Northman seemed to rival Compton's for Sookie Stackhouse! Andre imagined that the witch was already viewing the date of action as serendipitous. Of course, he did too. But he was not thinking about the romantic aspect of the holiday. No—he was thinking more along the lines of the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

"According to my spy in the Arkansas court, Peter Threadgill plans to come on the 12th to negotiate a marriage with Sophie-Anne; likely, he is on the phone with my maker right now about it. The telepath and Northman will be here so that Threadgill's humans can be monitored to discover the king's motives. The culminating event will be a Valentine's Night Ball, during which security will be high, but _many_ variables will also be impossible to predict."

"What is your plan?" Hallow asked.

"For you to get what you want. And for me to get what the queen wants, of course," Andre smiled sickly. "Appius's presence—and even Bill's—would help to ensure all of that; however, I believe that they are ultimately unneeded." He paused and smirked. "Because of the variables."

"You already know of some?" Hallow asked.

"I suspect that Peter may betray Sophie-Anne and try to kill her at the ball, though I will, of course, not allow that to happen. And—even if he isn't up to no good—enough evidence could be produced to make it look like that's the case. While everyone tries to deal with that possibility, they will be distracted from what we will be up to."

"And distracted further when we insert the cannon fodder," Hallow grinned.

"Ah—and how is Ms. Pelt?"

"Insane," Hallow chuckled. "And completely my puppet now that I control her V intake. She offered some useful information about Sookie's day guards. And she has been fun to play with; however, her greatest usefulness is her obsession with Sookie. We will introduce her into the situation to offer even another distraction to Eric."

"I want Sookie untouched," Andre growled.

"Oh—Debbie is too erratic to actually get close enough to Sookie to harm her, though she'll distract at least a couple of her guards for a bit. Of course, I'll make sure that she _thinks_ she can succeed. And—as she performs her role and as the King of Arkansas performs his—you can snatch up Sookie, and I will capture Eric, hopefully with the help of his maker. Once I have Eric here, I will perform a spell that will make him forget all about Sookie Stackhouse."

"I want him to be a non-issue," Andre growled. "He is a threat to my queen's monarchy."

"He will become my puppet," Hallow grinned. "And—if Bill is right—Appius may aid me in keeping him that way. We will bleed his Area dry, even as I bleed him for my own desire," the witch added. "And don't worry. He'll be too busy pleasing me to care about any ambitions he may have had against your queen."

"And you will confine yourself to Area 5—and then leave the state," Andre directed firmly.

"Yes. Yes. That is our agreement," Hallow waved him off. "I am sure that Eric will amuse me for a long time, perhaps perpetually."

"Just as long as he stops being a threat to Sophie-Anne and she gets what is rightfully hers—the telepath."

"Compton believes that he will be getting Sookie Stackhouse," Hallow reminded with a smirk.

"And Compton can be ended as soon as his usefulness runs out," Andre responded coldly.

Hallow shrugged. "Whatever. I hope that Appius will not be an issue. I am still somewhat reticent about his being here, though—if he is an ally—that will make everything so much easier. Gaining initial control over Eric may be difficult otherwise."

"Appius Livius Ocella is an old school vampire. We will entertain him at court, and—without Sophie-Anne being implicated, of course—I will make sure that he has some," he paused, " _special_ amusements while in the state. Likely, he will be a diverting addition at court for a while and then will move on. That is his usual practice with such things."

"Yes—but he might not like my plans for his child," Hallow stated pensively.

"Appius is well-known for enjoying the darker amusements. I can't imagine that he wouldn't enjoy you and your proclivities, Hallow."

The witch nodded, placated for the moment.

"I believe that I'm being tracked, though I have been able to shake my shadow up to this point. Thus, it is becoming too dangerous for us to meet in person," Andre said, throwing her a phone. "That is untraceable. If you want to speak with me, call. If I answer, do not speak. Just stay on the line for five seconds. If you get my answering service, simply do the same. I will return your call from a secure location as soon as I can."

Hallow nodded in acceptance and then smiled. "I will have my vampire in less than a month!"

"Yes," Andre pacified. "I will be in touch when it is time to develop specifics for the plan. Meanwhile, keep Debbie Pelt on a short leash." The queen's eldest child turned away to leave the plantation home. Hallow knew better than to request his blood, though he had given her information about the locations of vampires she could "enjoy" without fear of them being missed by others. There were plenty such loners in the area.

As a matter of fact, Andre did not care what became of the witch. Indeed, he hoped to influence Appius to end Hallow and to take Eric with him when he left Louisiana. That outcome would be better for him and his queen all the way around.

"Cut away the loose ends," he said to himself before assessing his surroundings.

He sighed. All that he did, he did with his maker in mind. Unfortunately, Sophie-Anne was being too soft-hearted and foolhardy when it came to the telepath and Northman. "But she will soon see things my way and will quickly come to understand that I am serving her best interests," he said confidently to himself before doing one last check of his trail to make sure the tracker had not re-found it.

Confident that he had not been tracked to Hallow's temporary dwelling, he began to run back toward the city. He had developed great running speed over the centuries, though he'd never gained the ability to fly. Still, he could travel very fast when he wanted to. He needed to stop by a safe-house he kept in the area—a private refuge, of sorts—so that he could remove the witch's stench from his body. And then he could return to the side of his queen, which was where he always preferred to be.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you liked this week's chapter! I know that Sophie-Anne is almost always presented in a negative light in fanfiction, but the queen in this piece is more positive. I hope you like that characterization. I'm also having fun with the portrayal of "the Berts" as being much smarter than is usually thought. So—Valentine's Night. The only teaser I'll give you is that A LOT is going to be happening then. Stay tuned!**

 **Please comment if you have the time and the inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	19. Chapter 18: Big Boots

**Chapter 18: Big Boots**

 **FRIDAY, JANUARY 21 • 8:30 p.m. (the night after the previous chapter)**

To be honest, Molly felt a bit out of place walking between Thalia and Maria-Star as the three women went into the queen's palace through a side entrance. A handsome vampire named Rasul was leading them in through what seemed to be the servants' quarters of the estate.

The youngest vampire in the group bit her lip nervously. Thalia and Maria-Star were both so confident in themselves, and they were taking in everything as if every corner of the building held a potential secret and every alcove a potential weapon. Molly clutched her computer bag tightly to her and felt herself treading down the hall—while the others seemed to barely take steps that hit the ground.

Computers— _those_ she could be confident about.

Everything else was a bit tricky for her.

Molly sighed. She was young—both in terms of years on the earth and vampire years. Indeed, she'd been turned when she was just three days past her eighteenth birthday, only five years before. She was what many vampires called a "half vamp." They got a small taste of what it meant to be a vampire before the Great Revelation, but they were turned after the steps toward "coming out of the coffin" were already well underway. Thus, they'd never lived in a world where they had to prepare for an eternity of secrecy and disconnection from that world.

Of course, Molly wasn't ignorant about the second of these concepts; she'd always been disconnected from those around her to a great extent.

Before she'd become a vampire, Molly had spent most of her time isolated—playing with her computers. "Real" people had tended to bully her, and she'd not fit in at all in Wenatchee, the small Washington city where she'd grown up. Her parents had—rightly—thought her to be too anti-social and were always trying to drag her to a church event or to encourage her to go to a school function.

A natural introvert—and a "different" one at that—Molly had found interacting with others, at least "flesh-and-bone" people, to be extremely difficult.

As cliché as it sounded for a self-professed "computer geek," Molly preferred the company of machines and online "personas." One such "friend" she made was idontbyte80. She'd thought the name was a clever play on words. She'd also guessed that the "real person" behind the name had been born in 1980, making him just a bit older than she was. She and idontbyte80 chatted a lot for several weeks. He was interested in learning more about the kinds of systems that she was working on. He seemed able to say all the right things about her program designs and her as a person; quickly, she'd dropped her "persona" and unmasked the "avatar" she'd constructed for her online self.

She'd let him in.

It seemed that vampires had the skill to glamour lonely computer geeks through the computer.

Molly agreed to meet idontbyte80 "in real life"—or I.R.L. as they'd referred to it as. She'd been so excited—truly believing that she'd found someone that "got" her. She'd even told her parents that she had a date, and they were excited too!

After only three and a half weeks of chatting with him, she thought that she was in love. And—for the first time in her life—she felt loved by someone other than her parents.

It turned out that idontbyte did, indeed, _bite_! And he _was_ born in '80—only, it wasn't 1980. It was 1780.

She didn't remember anything about their I.R.L. encounter (not that he was "alive") beyond his approaching her and her thinking he wasn't dressed like a "geek." Looking back, she knew that he must have glamoured her even before she could introduce herself.

She woke up scratching her way out of the earth.

As it turned out, he had been interested in her only for her computer prowess. After one "fresh meal," during which she'd mindlessly killed for the first—and hopefully last—time, her maker, Julian, ordered her to hack into the computer network of a company—Sanguine—which was working to perfect synthetic blood. Sanguine's product, which she learned was to be called True Blood, was slated to be released the following year. And—just a few months after that—vampires were going to "come out of the coffin."

Julian and the people that he worked with wanted to steal the formula and beat True Blood to the market with their own synthetic blood product.

Molly, of course, had to do as her maker ordered her to do. But she was incredibly bitter, especially given Julian's cruel attitude toward her. It wasn't easy in the best of circumstances for an unsuspecting human to be turned into a vampire. However, her maker did nothing to create even tolerable circumstances for the newborn vampire. In short, Julian had absolutely no interest in being a "maker" and had turned her only as a means to an end. He told her outright that he planned to kill her as soon as her task was accomplished and gave her only room-temperature (and slightly spoiled) bagged blood to subsist upon as she worked all the minutes that she was "alive" each night.

The two things he did give her were threats that he'd kill her parents if she was uncooperative and a string of maker's commands.

He commanded her not to do anything to physically harm him or herself. He also ordered her not to try to contact her family or any _humans_ at all. He further commanded that she in no way alert any _employees_ of Sanguine to what they were doing. Lastly, he ordered her not to leave the basement he stowed her in or to make any noise that might get the attention of any passersby. He thought he'd covered his bases.

But he should have worded his orders differently.

Though Julian knew enough about computers to keep something of an eye upon Molly's actions, he was no expert in code. And he wasn't standing behind her all the time. "Muting" the software he'd installed so that he could record her every keystroke had been easy enough. Hiding the searches she was doing into the power structure of Sanguine was simple for her as well. She quickly found out information about the human employees and prominent human owners; of course, her maker's command prevented her from contacting any of them. She had a hunch, however, that the company would be owned, at least in part, by vampires. And contacting a _vampire_ _owner_ wouldn't go against any of her commands. Plus, such a vampire would have a vested interest in helping her. A random vampire, even if she could discover one, wouldn't understand her message. Moreover, he or she wouldn't care.

Given that she'd been turned before the Great Revelation—and Julian was anything but forthcoming—she had no idea that there was a vampire hierarchy. But she could find just about anything on the Internet if she put her skills into action. Eventually, she stumbled across a part-owner of Sanguine, Eric Northman, whom she became certain was a vampire due to holes in his identity. Oh—he'd been careful, but she was too good at what she did to not notice the "gaps" in his history.

As she sculpted the hack she would need to break into Sanguine and steal their formulas, she wrote a tiny bit of code that would also alert the company email of Eric Northman about the cyber-attack. Unfortunately, she could not risk sending an email directly from the computer she was using. _Searching_ for information she needed was one thing—something she could hide from Julian. _Sending_ was something else—something not even her skills could hide, given the security Julian had managed to stifle her with. However, she was counting on the fact that Julian would miss the tiny bit of code unrelated to the hack itself.

She was right. He did.

Molly was almost 100% certain that Eric Northman was a vampire; after all, as she'd been designing the message to him within her code, she'd had no stifling feeling of "dread" as she'd had when she'd tried doing the same with the human CEO of the company.

Still, she worried that Julian might "catch" her if she tried launching the hack, which was a lovely untraceable virus she'd cooked up. It wouldn't do for her to go to press the button, but not be able to send the virus due to her maker's commands.

So she'd simply asked Julian if he wanted the honor of launching the virus. She'd counted on his arrogance and pride.

Again, she'd calculated correctly. Julian had leaped at the opportunity to take control from her in the pivotal moment. And he'd sealed his own doom.

Molly smiled a bit to herself as she, Thalia, Maria-Star, and the cute-butted Rasul turned a corner. She might never match up to the women she was with in physical prowess, but she had proven herself to be a warrior of a different kind.

Julian had kept her alive as he'd waited for the virus to do its work. It took four days and nights for it first to infiltrate (through a carelessly opened email attachment by a low-level staffer, who'd likely been confident in his company's "top-of-the-line" virus-seeking software), then to seek out the formulas Julian wanted to steal, and finally to transmit those formulas.

Unfortunately for Julian, it took only three nights for Eric Northman to come "calling" with his child, Pam.

It had hurt like a mother fucker when her maker was slain. But the vampires who'd come to take revenge upon her maker for his attempted theft had given her _fresh and warmed_ bagged blood to help her get through it. Eric had recognized her talent, and he'd announced that he owed her a favor for saving the company that he part-owned a lot of trouble and money. He'd been even more pleased with her when she'd been able to turn her virus against the people Julian worked for.

Ultimately, Molly accepted the "repayment" of Eric's favor in the form of a new existence, one in which she would have steady employment and learn how to be a vampire—without killing another human. Pam had taken Molly under her wing. And—after the Great Revelation—Molly had even been able to go see her parents in Washington.

All in all, things hadn't turned out too badly, and Molly liked being a vampire, even embracing the "goth" look that Pam made fun of but that drew cute geeky young human men to her like flies to honey. Pam also made fun of the fact that Molly had zero interest in learning to fight physically. She called it "anti-vampire." However, Eric respected Molly's wishes and kept her duties centered upon tech "battles."

Thus, the techy was very aware of what she was supposed to do at the queen's residence; however, she was practically tingling with the energy that she was picking up from the two warriors next to her: Sookie's vampire and Were heads of security.

"Girl power," the young vampiress muttered to herself, eliciting a chuckle from Rasul, a roll of the eyes from Maria-Star, and absolutely no reaction whatsoever from Thalia.

So much for breaking the tension.

Finally, the trio of women from Area 5 and Rasul arrived in front of a large set of double doors. An imposing vampire stood in front of them.

"Sigebert, this is the delegation Sheriff Northman sent," Rasul told the man.

Sigebert seemed to ignore Molly and the Were and focused on Thalia.

"I laugh to remember you here first time," he said in stilted English.

Thalia gave the tiniest of shoulder shrugs to acknowledge the comment.

Sigebert chuckled as he opened the door. "Queen waiting."

Molly had never met a vampire monarch before, and—even though she had laughed a bit at the whole monarchy thing when Pam had taught her about it—she couldn't help but to be nervous as she took in the sight before her. A beautiful redhead was sitting on an elegant throne in a silk dress that seemed straight out of a movie from the 1930s. Taking her eyes off of the striking queen, Molly did a double take, as she looked at the male vampire at her side and then back at the one who'd just let them in and was now closing the door behind them. They looked exactly the same to her!

"Brothers—in humanity and vampirism," the queen announced, gauging Molly's reaction.

"Oh—uh—thanks, Your Majesty," the young vampiress said rather awkwardly as she curtseyed a little.

Skipping the curtseys, Maria-Star and Thalia both inclined their heads toward the vampire queen, though Thalia's movement was barely perceptible.

"You are Maria-Star Cooper and Molly," the queen paused, "Jolly?"

"Pam arranged for my documents for me before the Great Reveal, so I couldn't keep my original surname, Your Majesty. Pam picked the name Molly Jolly," the young vampiress intoned.

The queen's tinkling laughter filled the room. "Pamela is hilarious!"

"Unless you're the one named Molly Jolly," the victim of Pam's prank stated flatly.

"I'm surprised you haven't already changed it," the queen returned.

Molly shrugged. "I owe Pam a lot. If my being the punch line of her joke every time she introduces me pays that back even a little, then I can live—uh, well, you know what I mean, 'exist'—with the name."

The queen smiled and nodded a bit at the young one's display of deference and wisdom. "Sheriff Northman indicated that you would need full access to the estate, including the control room," she said.

"Yes. Is Andre on the estate tonight?" Thalia boldly asked.

"He is," the queen responded, her eyes narrowing. "It wouldn't do to hide your presence from him, though he will not be told about Molly here. If it is agreeable, I will have Rasul accompany her to the control room as you and Maria-Star assess this house, the tunnels, the guesthouse, and the grounds with Andre— _and_ Sigebert."

"Sigebert to ensure that Andre doesn't leave anything out," Thalia observed sagely.

The queen nodded. "Sigebert will communicate to me if he does."

"Do you trust Andre?" Thalia asked point blank.

The queen bristled a bit at Thalia's boldness. "I will ensure that he is not an issue for Sheriff Northman and Sookie Stackhouse," she said stiffly, by way of an answer.

Thalia stared down the queen for a moment before nodding infinitesimally. "Your plan for this night's assessments is agreeable."

Sophie-Anne shook her head and laughed a little, clearly unintimidated by the fierce vampiress who was being borderline disrespectful—or not so borderline. "I'm glad you find it so, Thalia. Now, Rasul, will you escort young Molly to the control room, and I'll call Andre to begin your tour," she added, looking unflinchingly at Thalia.

Molly found that she respected her queen in that moment. She didn't figure that many monarchs would be both confident and easygoing enough to deal with Thalia in such a way. Pam had told the computer savant to observe and learn from the vampires she interacted with. Molly felt that—from the queen—she was learning about a different kind of strength, the kind that ruled with a strong personality. However, she also intuited that the queen could be quite deadly—if push came to shove.

The young vampiress followed Rasul out of the throne room, making sure she walked a bit behind him so that she could check out his cute butt.

It didn't hurt to look—right?

Rasul stopped them in the middle of a hallway. Quickly, the young computer nerd realized that his placement was strategic, for there was a gap in the surveillance. He handed her a note.

"For Eric. A list of some Area 1 safe house locations unknown to Andre—or the queen," he said in barely a whisper.

Molly looked at the note and then at Rasul, who was giving her a boyish grin.

"You and I have the same boss," he whispered, "though I work for the queen too."

"A double agent?" the younger vampiress asked.

Rasul shook his head. "No. My main loyalty will always lie with Eric, but I'm happy serving the queen, too. Hopefully, I can continue to do both—as I enjoy my current position and place in the world. I just keep an eye on things here—for Eric—as I'm doing the same for the queen. Luckily, it's been rare that I can't do both in the exact same way," he added, winking at her.

If Molly could have blushed, she would have. Of course, her arousal was "sniffed out" by Rasul in a different way, and the handsome Middle Eastern vampire grinned rakishly.

"I can't wait to see you in action, Miss Jolly," he said as she tucked the paper into her computer bag and then followed him the rest of the way to the control room.

* * *

Andre despised the fact that his queen seemed so willing to bend over backwards for Northman and his pet telepath. It annoyed him. It also made his ultimate goals—taking the telepath, tying her to himself by forcing a blood exchange, and gifting a complacent and obedient asset to his queen—all the more difficult.

But—of course—it would make his success all the more rewarding as well.

He studied the two women who would ultimately be his two main opponents—if Hallow and/or Appius could capture and control Northman, that is.

Thalia was as unpleasant as ever, though she walked with a sense of purpose that showed that she took her current assignment quite seriously. As far as Andre knew, Thalia was a bit older than he was, perhaps by as much as a century or two. The vampire was quite secretive about her age. Still, a vampire could _feel_ when another in his or her presence was stronger. He hated that Thalia fit into that category, for he loathed feeling lesser in strength to _anyone_ , other than his maker. Still—with a little guile and the elements of surprise and distraction—Andre felt certain that Thalia would be a casualty in the upcoming conflict.

He looked forward to it.

Maria-Star Cooper was, Andre thought, an odd choice for the telepath's head of day security. Simply put, female Weres were not as strong as males. Oh—he planned to have her investigated to ensure that he was not missing something significant in her biography, but from what he could tell, there was nothing particularly noteworthy about her. Had Northman been serious about Miss Stackhouse's safety, he would have hired a Were with security experience, perhaps even someone comparable with John Quinn, the famous weretiger, whom the queen had just hired to coordinate the Valentine's Day ball and to add an extra layer to her own security.

The queen liked multitaskers.

Of course, Quinn walked a fine line. Rumor had it that de Castro held a marker over Quinn's head, and Sophie-Anne was rightly wary of the Nevada king. However, Quinn's company, E(E)E—or Extreme(ly Elegant) Events—was the best known in the business for vampire events that needed to meet the highest level of quality—and discretion. And, as he did with his other high-profile clients, Quinn would sign a contract of loyalty during his employment period. These contracts were sealed by magic and enforced by the Supernatural Council; thus, de Castro couldn't use Quinn against one of his own clients, nor could he extract secrets about a client after a contract's term was ended. The magic guaranteed that. And, if de Castro ever did try to counteract that magic, the Nevada monarch's life would be forfeit, and he knew it.

"Why Northman doesn't trust his queen's security staff to protect his telepath is beyond me," Andre sneered as he watched the Were female examine the entrance to the tunnel that led from the guest house to the queen's residence.

" _You_ run security—correct?" Thalia asked, her question loaded.

"I do," Andre responded stiffly.

"And Sheriff Northman is aware of that?" Maria-Star Cooper asked.

"He is," Andre said through clenched teeth.

"I believe you have your answer then," Thalia said evenly, though her insult was perfectly clear. From the Were's smirk, she'd registered the slight to Andre as well.

"You'd do well to remember that you are _not_ in Area 5," Andre seethed.

"Queen's territory," Sigebert said in the heavily-accented, broken English he always used around people who were not in the queen's inner circle. Indeed, Wybert and Sigebert acted like brutes in "public," though some beyond the queen's bloodline knew of their true language and intellectual abilities, for they were open about them with vampires the brothers had collectively "decided" to respect.

Andre was angry that Northman happened to be one of those, and he had argued vehemently against the brothers exposing their true selves to the sheriff (and—by default—his cunt of a child), though the queen had endorsed the brothers' request. Especially now, Andre found their decision to be folly.

"Yes—the _queen's_ territory," Andre agreed, having not picked up on the fact that Sigebert had meant his comment as a slight warning to his vampire sibling—rather than to Thalia. The large Saxon rolled his eyes so that the vampiress—but not Andre—could see it. "And you would do well to respect not only her security but also the one she chose to run it."

"I do respect the queen," Thalia offered. "And it is _she_ , I believe, who told Sheriff Northman that this guest home will be like a little piece of Area 5 while he and Miss Stackhouse are visiting. Thus, it will have the guards that the Northman sees fit."

"But will they truly be the most fit guards?" Andre taunted a bit as he looked sideways at Maria-Star. "It would be a pity for the queen to lose such an asset as a telepath."

"Sookie Stackhouse belongs to Eric Northman," Thalia said firmly.

"And the sheriff is an asset to the state," Andre responded, trying to stare her down. "What belongs to him is, by extension, the queen's. Would you not agree?" he baited.

"You are aware that they are blood bound?" Thalia asked instead of answering him.

"The queen was made aware by Northman," Andre responded. "Thus, I know."

"The queen has already shown that she respects the bond between the sheriff and Miss Stackhouse," Thalia observed.

"Such bonds can be expedient," Andre returned. "Northman was lucky to have managed one with the telepath. I believe Bill Compton had some claim—before his?"

"None worth noting," Thalia responded evenly.

"Well. I truly do hope that the guards Northman puts into place are sufficient," Andre observed.

"They will be," the vampiress responded.

Andre scoffed, but said nothing else. What would be the point—after all? Soon, Thalia would eat her words—hopefully right before her head was dislodged from her shoulders.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, JANUARY 22 • 4:00 A.M.**

"Do you think the queen was _really_ pissed?" Molly asked the vampiress and the Were who were in the front seat of the SUV. The trio had stayed at the queen's estate for about five hours before beginning the drive back to Bon Temps, where Molly would rest for the night in one of the light-tight rooms at Sookie and Eric's farmhouse.

The modest-sized guard house was well on its way to being completed, but it was not ready to stay in yet. And the youngling was not keen to go to ground as Thalia and Bubba preferred to do. Padma would also be staying in the farmhouse the next day—though she usually had time to return to the home she shared with Indira most nights. However, since their journey to Bon Temps would place them there at only about a half an hour before dawn and there were plans to be made the next night, she and Molly would be staying over.

"Yes; she was pissed," Thalia answered succinctly.

"Wouldn't you be if you found out your child had a secret way to override the security system that he assured you couldn't be overridden—by _anyone_?" Maria-Star asked.

Molly shrugged. "A lot of people put in back doors."

"But a vampire child shouldn't have hidden that fact from his maker—especially not a maker who has spent many centuries trusting him," Thalia returned evenly. "He has made her look like a fool tonight, for she told us one thing, and we have found out another. If we were not aware of the larger situation, then we would currently suspect that the duplicity was with the queen, not just her child. And that kind of thing could have led to conflict between the sheriff and the queen."

"Oh," Molly said, understanding the gravity of the situation. "What will happen to Andre?"

"Something the queen has already planned," Thalia responded.

"How do you know she's already planned it?" Molly asked, confused again. Indeed, pretty much every aspect of vampire politics seemed a bit out of her reach.

"She wasn't surprised by the news you gave her about the security system," Maria-Star offered helpfully. "But she was pissed. That's how we can be sure that she didn't know about it all along."

"She didn't seem too mad to me," Molly frowned.

"Oh—she was very angry," Thalia said evenly. "You will learn to better read people—with practice," she added, glancing over her shoulder at Molly.

The younger vampire shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't like hanging out with people when I was a human. And—no offense—but I'd rather be at home messing with the new operating system I'm tinkering with than here with you two."

Maria-Star laughed out loud.

"What?" Molly asked.

"If you think Thalia ever enjoyed," she paused to snort again, "'hanging out' with people, then you really are clueless!"

Understanding dawned upon Molly, and she let out a little laugh.

"I learned by observation, _not_ interaction," Thalia instructed, "but I learned well."

"Me too," Maria-Star indicated, "and no one would accuse me of being social either." She paused for a moment. "The queen looked ready to kill for half a second right after you told her about finding Andre's little back door into her system. But then, just as fast, I could see resolution in her."

"As I said, she already knows what she is going to do with Andre," Thalia reiterated.

"Wait! Are you saying that the queen knew that Andre was hiding things from her? That he was—uh—conniving?" Molly asked.

"She generally likes the fact that he connives so well," Maria-Star intoned.

"But not against her," Thalia added, her voice deadly.

Molly shook her head, still a little confused about things that the two women with her seemed to know more about than she could even fathom. Luckily, she didn't need to know much beyond her own role in the situation.

On a conference call with Eric and Sookie after they were well away from the palace and after they had checked their vehicle for bugs, it had been determined that Molly would go along on the Valentine's Ball trip. She'd already developed a way to shut the backdoor that Andre had put into his security system design. However, Eric wanted her on site to ensure that she could take control of the whole system if necessary.

One thing was certain in Molly's thoughts: The Valentine's Ball trip seemed like it would be fraught with unseen dangers; she just hoped that her presence in New Orleans would help Eric and Sookie to avoid them.

And she hoped that she might hook up with the hunky Rasul.

Oh—and not get killed.

* * *

 **A/N: So sorry that this was later than expected. I came home from my trip only to be met with a dirty house and a bunch of work! Oh well. Such is life when the hubby is left at home. Anyway, I hope that you were intrigued by Molly and Andre's POVs, specifically Molly's. I do like creating mini-back-stories for the characters. In Molly's case, she was a show-created character, whom I really liked! So—of course—she was killed off before she could live up to her potential. Though this is a book-centric piece, I like to import the show characters at times, and Molly's presence offers a good perspective of the upcoming Valentine's trip, as well as the duplicity of Andre. Plus, it was fun imagining where she came from and how she became link with Eric's world.**

 **I hope that you will comment if you have the time and inclination.**

 **All the best,**

 **Kat**

P.S. I plan to still post this week's regular chapter on Sunday—so not much time to wait. 😊


	20. Chapter 19: Edge of Reality

**A/N: TRIGGER ALERT—brief (and undetailed) references to non-consensual sex occur in this chapter. Still—I wanted to warn you.**

* * *

 **Chapter 19: Edge of Reality**

 **WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 9 • 5:40 p.m. • The Philippines**

Bill Compton achieved awareness about twenty minutes before sundown. All of the blood he had been taking in had enabled him to wake up before his usual time. By contrast, Alexei would wake up about fifteen minutes _after_ the sun set. Perhaps due to the desperate situation he'd been in when Appius had found him and turned him, Alexei had always been a late-riser. And glutting himself upon human blood actually caused him to "sleep in" even more.

His master called his sleeping in "napping."

Before Bill opened his eyes, he inhaled deeply and was almost overwhelmed with the scent of blood around him.

When he opened them, he was met with an odd sight and an even odder sound. His master was speaking in baby talk to the lone remaining citizen of the island which had "hosted" Appius, Alexei, and his feasts for the last month and a half. Indeed, their stay had been extended an extra week, for the little island housed more people than even King Datu had been aware of.

"You will have to help me console Alexei when I do not allow him to eat this little one," Appius said of the three-year-old boy before him. The child had tear-streaks staining his face, and—despite his dark complexion—he was pale with fear and uncertainty.

His parents had been on the menu the night before—saved for last because, though Appius had enjoyed the idea of leaving one lone child alive at the end of the vampire trio's rampage, he did not want to have to actually take care of said child.

"But he is so excited about the idea of leaving the boy alive to remember," Bill said evenly. A part of him knew that he should be ashamed of himself for not feeling pity for the being shedding silent tears as he looked up into the face of the most ancient being that he would likely ever meet. But Bill did not feel pity. His master had helped him to overcome that emotion weeks before. Other lingering human traits had also been abolished.

As an example, Bill now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he did _not_ love Sookie Stackhouse, nor should he have ever felt such a weak emotion for a mostly-human creature. Hell! Even if she'd been full fairy, she would not have deserved the _love_ of a vampire!

His new master had taught him that the proper way to feel about an intriguing or useful non-vampire creature was _curiosity_ , as one might feel for a zoo animal. Oh—some such creatures were "better" than others, as the lion was superior to the lamb, but none of them were equal to a vampire.

Indeed, they could only begin to touch equality if they were _chosen_ to be turned into a vampire. However, even then, a new vampire would never be better than the one who chose him or her. After Sookie was _his_ vampire child, Bill would be able to offer her his affection—similar to that "love" which Appius held for Alexei. However, even then, Appius was clear that Sookie would need to earn Bill's affection—that it could not simply be given.

It could, however, be compelled within her. Indeed, one of the most useful lessons Bill had learned from his master during the prior six weeks had been on a night that Appius had enjoyed his fill early and had regaled Bill with tales of how he'd forced Eric—slowly but surely—to _earn_ Appius's affection. According to Appius, Eric had initially refused to submit to anything other than Appius's commands—initially unwilling to receive even his maker's tender attentions without struggle.

Bill could not understand why—or how—anyone would—or could—resist such an impressive vampire as Appius Livius Ocella. And—knowing that Eric had done so—gave the younger vampire yet another reason to hate him.

The best reason he'd yet found.

Yes—Eric's lack of appreciation for his maker now made Bill's temper fire to life. Eric Northman was unworthy. But Bill was not. Case in point—he showed his master proper respect and obedience.

In fact, Bill now viewed Eric's loss as his own gain. Appius was _his_ maker now—in all ways that mattered. And he would see Eric Northman dead if he disrespected Appius again.

Speaking of his master, Appius was once again trying to coax the child into smiling. But the young one had seen the vampire commit too many atrocities to relent. His face—so innocent—was the truest picture of terror that Bill had ever seen.

"The child is beautiful," Bill remarked.

Appius turned to smile at his young apprentice. "And what makes him so to you, young William."

"His pure terror. His terrible awe of you," Bill responded, his own voice full of awe and reverence. "He exemplifies all that you have taught me about how humans _should_ look at us. And you have given him the greatest gift imaginable."

Pleased by Bill's words, Appius smiled. "And what gift do you believe I have bestowed upon the lad?"

"You have shown him the true unbridled beauty of vampire nature, Master. Even as a vampire—and even with a maker who cared little for humanity—I never witnessed what you have shown me in this place. This child has seen such wonders already! And he will live on to re-see them in his nightmares for the rest of his days. He will never be the same. You have spared him; you are his god now!"

Appius's smile widened. "I knew that there was promise within you, William. But I must say that you have exceeded even my own expectations."

"I now exist to please you, Master," Bill said with veneration.

"And so you do—please me," Appius responded with certainly. "And—since you do—I ask that you take away the child as soon as the sun fully sets before Alexei awakens."

"You wish me to leave your side?" Bill asked.

"Only for a short while," Appius assured the younger vampire, who had formed a pleasing dependence upon him in such a short amount of time. "I have arranged for two transport vessels back to the island of Luxon. We will then go to Manila by automobile to pay our respects to Datu. Alexei and I will take the second transport; however, I will keep him busy here for a while. I am sorry that you will miss the great burning I have planned for this place. But not seeing the child—here and so tempting—will be better for your brother."

Bill nodded in obedient agreement, even as he smiled a little. One of the many gifts that Appius had bestowed upon him had been calling him Alexei's "brother." He hoped one night to earn the label of "child" from his master as well.

"I will miss the fire," Bill said, standing up quickly and pulling on his blood-stained clothing from the night before. Since all the adult humans were dead as of the night before, the trio of vampires had rested within the village itself—in a light-tight section of the home of the last family they'd killed the night before. However, there was a warded lodge on the other end of their island paradise where they had spent all of their other days since their "vacation" had begun. There, he would shower and gather his belongings. "However, it is a small thing to give up, compared to all that you have given to me, Master," he added.

Appius smiled at the young vampire. "I knew you would understand. Now—as we discussed—take the child to a family on Luxon who will care for him well. And glamour them to raise him as one of their own."

"Should I clean the child before delivering him?" Bill asked.

"No. It will be more horrible for the child if the first reaction from his new family is one of horror. However, _do_ glamour them not to approach the authorities about the condition in which they find the child."

Bill nodded in agreement as he watched Appius bend toward the child to give him a light kiss on the forehead. His gaze drew the child's to him.

"Even without glamour, you would always remember this place and the horrors of what happened, little one," he said gently to the child. "You were chosen to live because you are just at the right age—to remember, but to never be able to fully comprehend what you saw here. You are at the right age to speak about your experiences without being old enough to be fully believed." He intensified his gaze so that he was now glamouring the child. "I free your mind to vividly remember the fear and the horrors of your early life. However, you will not be able to say aloud—or to communicate to others in any way—that vampires were responsible for those horrors. You will, however, always live in fear that I will return for you. This fear will not occur to you all the time, little one. After all, I want you to _try_ to find peace and joy in this life, but at first dark, _every_ night, you _will_ worry that I have come for you. And you will remember me—all the days you draw breath," Appius finished as his fangs elongated.

Bill chuckled heartlessly as the child wet himself.

"The child is ready to go," Appius said, pushing the little one slightly toward Bill.

The elder vampire sighed. "And I am ready to go, too. Though it has been a lovely visit here, I believe that even Alexei has been sated for a time."

Bill chuckled again, only this time with affection for his vampire "brother." It had not taken Bill long to feel a kind of paternal affection for Alexei. He needed special care, after all.

"Just in case," Bill said, "I will find a few humans for us to feed upon after I find the child a new home."

Appius smiled with approval. "Yes. Alexei—as much as I hate limiting him—will need to practice feeding without killing. And doing it while we are still in the Philippines will be better in case he fails. Easier to clean up." The elder vampire sighed and reached toward the bed to stroke his younger child's hair. "He does so hate to stop feeding before a human is bloodless."

Bill nodded. "It will seem odd for me too, given the experience here."

"Arrange for some expendable humans on the private plane to the United States as well," Appius said. "Part of our trip will be during the day, so about ten should do—for those times when we are awake. Alexei may need to practice feeding without killing _several_ times before he gets it right."

Bill nodded in obedience and yanked the Filipino child to his feet before lifting him. "I shall make sure that our journey preparations are all in place, Master. And I will call Andre and the witch to ensure that they are ready to attend to us in Louisiana as well."

Appius watched Bill leave with the motionless child in his grasp. Unfortunately, the little one was in shock, so he had ceased his struggling the night before, though Appius had secured him with ropes before he had taken his rest that morning. It would have been inconvenient if the child had wandered off during the day and gotten itself killed, after all.

The elder vampire lay down next to Alexei. He felt pleased—content even. William had, indeed, been just what their nest had needed. For the first time in many years, Appius no longer feared who would take care of Alexei after he was forced to allow him to go off on his own.

"Bitch," Appius said, referring to his maker, who had once commanded him to never keep a child by his side for more than two hundred years. Her command had been what had forced Appius to let Eric have his independence.

Appius growled in anger. One of his chiefest regrets was that two hundred years had not been enough time to break Eric, though he had tried. Another of his regrets was that he could no longer stand being in proximity with his elder child for more than a week or so at a time.

"And I do not like to be uncomfortable," the ancient said bitterly, almost pouting.

Moreover, he always felt weaker if he was around Eric—as any vampire would when going against his or her maker's orders, even in a temporary way.

Still—Appius was anxious to see Eric again. If William was representing the situation correctly, much damage could be done to Eric in just a week's time. Sookie Stackhouse could be ripped from him. Pamela, Eric's second child, could be toyed with. Appius was even contemplating having Eric order Pamela from his side—permanently.

"Yes. _Much_ damage can be done in a short amount of time," Appius said with glee. Eric would lose the woman he'd been feeling such strong emotions for—emotions strong enough to have been felt by his maker halfway around the world. He would lose his child and, therefore, be in fear of ever making another. And, of course, Appius would use the body of his beautiful child for several nights, enjoying the most perfect specimen of male that the ancient had ever seen.

And he would leave Eric even more anxious about the potential of future visits.

"Perhaps, at long last, you will finally be broken," Appius smiled.

* * *

Isolde had needed to use her persona as Karin the Slaughterer to infiltrate the inner circle of King Datu's court. Though Datu had many courtiers, mostly sycophants lining up to kiss his fat ass, few were genuinely trusted by the king. Indeed, he'd been trying to hire her for a while, anxious to have a few of the stronger members of his court, those who had been skimming from his own coffers, eliminated. Datu was lazy, however—reticent about dirtying his own hands. He also clearly liked the idea of the notoriety that came along with Karin's services.

Having employed her meant that others would be much less likely to cross him in the future.

Generally, Karin would have never taken a job from one such as Datu. Simply put, she didn't like how the king did business, nor did she approve of the kind of business he allowed to be done in his kingdom.

However, Datu had proven useful, offering her the perfect cover for her investigatory work. From the King of the Philippines and those around him, Karin had been able to glean much knowledge, including a bit of information about what Appius had been up to. Unfortunately, she'd been unable to discover the exact isle of his depravities. However, she did know that he intended to be received in King Datu's court later that night—to offer his last payment for the "special services" Datu had provided.

From the court, Karin intended to follow her maker's maker. She was almost positive that Appius and two other vampires had arranged for a private flight out of Manila before dawn. If she was correct, they were planning to leave the country from a hangar where she'd stowed a few tools of her trade: the tools of an assassin.

She was hoping to alter their plans—permanently.

* * *

Appius looked closely at Bill, who was driving the vehicle that Datu had arranged for their transport to the airport. Alexei was in the back seat in downtime. Bill's idea to placate Alexei with a meal as soon as they returned to "civilization"—or, at least, what the humans thought of as such—had been inspired.

And it had saved the maker from having to placate the childlike Alexei with the promise of a greater treat later.

Alexei had eaten well, though one of the humans Bill had secured had not survived the encounter. The other _had_ lived, however. And—given Alexei's difficulty with becoming "tame" once again after a binge—let alone one that had been going on for over a month—that was a small wonder!

Yes—Bill was already proving himself to be quite the useful tool. And now Appius intended to test Bill's usefulness in another way.

"I have not told you what my vampire gifts are," Appius stated. "Would you care to learn of them?"

"It would be an honor," Bill returned, his voice laced with awe.

"One, of course, you have seen."

"The gift of flight," Bill said with a certain amount of envy.

"Ah—yes—a coveted gift, to be sure."

The Civil War veteran nodded in agreement.

Appius sighed deeply. "I am certain that my maker would have held back all gifts from me if she could have. However, she was of _great_ magic—both before and after her turning. The ability that she could not help passing along to me allows me to know when someone is trying to deceive or harm me through the use of magic."

"What do you mean?" Bill asked. "I mean—I have never heard of an ability like that, Master," he corrected, his tone shifting from a questioning one to a humbler one.

Appius smiled fondly at his young ward. "The ability is a feeling really—a sense of distrust whenever any form of magical spell is being used against me—in _any_ way. Even more, I feel a sense of warning even at the _intention_ of magical harm—before the act. That is why I do not fear working with your Hallow; if her magic is ever constructed to injure me or my interests, I will know of it before she can utter a single spell or complete a potion. It is a kind of," the elder paused, "intuition." He did not mention that this skill was likely a much weaker version of his maker's prophetic ability. In truth, he resented that he'd not inherited all of Pythia's skills, though it was said that her future-telling was a part of her even before her turning.

"That _is_ a useful skill, Master," Bill remarked. "However, I do not think that Hallow will betray us."

Appius laughed in a way that would have been patronizing to Bill if he were not so completely enthralled by his elder. "Oh, dear boy! You have much to learn! A witch is only ever trustworthy up to a point. And—even then—one cannot be trusted for long. They thirst for our power, and your Hallow is even worse—using our blood to become more like us than any Were or witch should ever be. Still, she—like others of her ilk—can prove useful for a season. And we will test that usefulness. However, now we have other concerns."

"What concerns?" Bill asked.

"A vampire. Karin the Slaughterer. Have you heard of her?"

"Rumors. She is an assassin—right?" Bill asked.

"Yes. Datu confided in me that he hired her to eliminate some of his foes," Appius waved as if Datu's concerns were insignificant—as they, indeed, were immaterial to the elder vampire.

"Do you wish to engage her services?" Bill asked with some confusion.

"No. However, Datu pointed her out to me at court. I had never seen her before tonight. Something," he paused, "is amiss regarding her."

"Amiss?" Bill asked.

Appius looked at the younger vampire indulgently. "Yes, young William. Given her profession, it is not surprising that she uses magic to cover up her scent, but I find it quite odd that I _know_ she intends to use her magic against me in some way. At least, to deceive me."

"You believe Datu arranged for you to be assassinated?!"

Appius laughed. "No. He lacks the audacity for such a maneuver; moreover, he hopes to get his hands on more of my money one day when Alexei is in need of another island vacation."

The vampire in the back seat perked up. "When, Father? When can we return?"

Appius smiled at the young one's excitement. "Perhaps a decade."

"So long?" Alexei pouted.

"After we see your brother, I would like to explore some of the rest of the United States, since it will be my first time there as well. Does it not sound pleasant to explore new places with William? I am sure that there are certain courts that will offer us much amusement."

Alexei shrugged and turned his attention to look out the window.

"So Karin the Slaughterer?" Bill asked, anxious to know more about what Appius had to say on the topic.

"Oh, yes. Back on track. Thank you, William. To finish what I was saying—my ability allows for me to know _how_ looming a danger from magic is; thus, I know that the assassin is tracking us even now—from above." He seemed to be pondering for a moment.

"Who do you think employed her?" Bill asked somewhat pensively.

"She covers her scent; thus, when the magic she uses to conceal it runs out, perhaps, we will learn more. Or I may just have to garner information from her the old-fashioned way. Tell me, William. Have you ever had a good lesson in the art of torture?"

"My maker had some advice on the matter," Bill responded.

Appius smiled at him. "I will be anxious to see what you already know, and—do not fear—I will happily teach you a trick or two," he winked.

"You do not fear the assassin?" Bill asked, his own anxiety clear.

"Not when I know she is coming," Appius smiled sinisterly. "However, I do have a job for you."

"Anything, Master."

"You are to keep Alexei safe as I deal with the so-called 'slaughterer.'"

"I can take care of myself," Alexei said sullenly. "William's not much older anyway."

"Of course, you can take care of yourself," Appius placated, even as he shared a significant look with Bill. "I just know that the two of you—working together—will be unharmed while I secure the vampiress trailing us."

"She cannot hear us?" Bill asked nervously.

Appius shook his head. "She is above us at quite a distance, far enough that I cannot sense her; however, my gift allows me to know she is there," he paused, "in a different way." Again, seeming to ponder something carefully, he was silent for a moment. "Speaking of gifts—flight is not such a common one. It tends to be passed along from sire to child—with very few vampires outside of those lucky lineages being able to do it."

"I can fly!" Alexei said excitedly.

Bill nodded an absentminded reaction to his new vampire "brother." The Southerner was not of a vampire lineage that enjoyed the gift of flight. Indeed, Northman was one of the only vampires whom he'd ever met who could do it.

"Do you think her ability is significant?" Bill asked his mentor.

"One of the reasons I have lived as long as I have is because I think of all possibilities," Appius said contemplatively. He turned to Bill and then Alexei. "Proceed to the airport, and be wary—in case the Slaughterer is not alone in whatever quest she is on."

Bill gasped as Appius moved so quickly from the moving vehicle that he almost seemed to disappear as if by magic. Alexei's fangs came down.

"Daddy gets to hunt!" he enthused. "He likes to hunt vampires—sometimes!"

"And you?" Bill asked, mostly to make sure that Alexei was kept somewhat distracted so that he wouldn't fret over his maker.

"I like to hunt humans—mostly," Alexei shrugged. "One time, Father got me a fairy to hunt, and that was very nice," he added, licking his lips.

Bill nodded, even as an uneasy feeling engulfed him. He did not want Alexei to grow fixated upon Sookie because of her fairy blood. In confidence, Appius had offered a private assurance that Alexei would be "controlled" as needed, though he'd certainly encouraged Bill to "share" Sookie's blood with Alexei and himself. It wasn't as if either of them would prefer her for sex.

Of course, Bill had agreed to share Sookie with them, and—if they ultimately decided to fuck her—he would allow that, too. After all, his new master had thoroughly convinced him that Sookie was—in her current form—a lesser being.

"Ah—he's caught her!" Alexei enthused.

"How do you know?" Bill asked.

"Since he's been hunting, he let me feel him," Alexei shared. "He can cut off his end of our bond, but he doesn't when he knows I want to feel what he's feeling."

Bill nodded as he turned the car onto the access road that would take them to the private airfield that they'd be leaving for the United States from.

"Father is just disappointed the hunt didn't last longer," Alexei sighed. "But it will be fun to torture her—don't you think?"

"Yes," Bill stated, feeling a sense of excitement at the prospect of learning from Appius. Plus, he was intrigued to find out why Karin the Slaughterer meant his Master ill-will.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi all! If you are like me, Appius and Bill make you cringe. In deciding upon my portrayal of Appius in this piece, I determined that I wanted to paint him in what I would imagine is the worse light possible—to paint him as being truly evil to his core. I couldn't imagine a more evil scenario than what I imagined would be Appius's behavior if he had the opportunity to treat humans in any way he wanted. Anyway, even I—as the author—cringed through the re-reading of this. I hope that means I did a good job.**

 **I promise—no Appius in the next chapter. Instead, a little Sookie and Eric.**

 **Until then,**

 **Kat**

 **P.S. As always, please review if you have the time and the inclination.**


	21. Chapter 20: Confidence

**Chapter 20: Confidence**

 **FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 11 • 3:00 p.m.**

Sookie ran her fingers along Eric's beautiful face, tracing his cheekbones and then the strong lines of his nose and chin before lightly touching his soft, perfect—and never-chapped—lips. In his day-death, he was so still—beautiful in a way that seemed almost statue-like, though she couldn't imagine any sculptor, not even Michelangelo, chiseling such perfection. Most people would have compared Eric's body to a human corpse, but Sookie had seen dead humans before. And looking at a vampire at rest was a very different thing.

Perhaps, it was because her mind knew that Eric would awaken a little before dark, while it knew that human corpses would never again animate. She shivered as an image of Gran's lifeless body sprang unbidden into her mind.

There had been a lot more missing from Gran's body than just her pulse as she'd lain on the kitchen floor. That which was "magic" in humanity—maybe it was her soul—was missing from Gran, too. With Eric, that mysterious, magical piece did not go away when he died for the day.

Nor did his body go fully rigid as Gran's had. There was still suppleness in the give of his skin. It was as if the blood and magic inside of him still moved—like water might drift around in a pond—even if it did not pump, like water flowing in a stream. It was true that, just like a corpse, Eric's body wasn't warm, but—then again—it never was, so she was used to that.

Most importantly, Sookie still felt the hum of the magically-formed bond between them. She still felt his soul in the room, though he might question that he had one. His "presence" had not disappeared as Gran's had already done by the time Sookie found her dead corpse.

The magic that kept him alive was simply _different_ from the functions that kept humans enlivened, but she didn't find him "dead" because of that. She found him to be a miracle.

Her miracle.

A knock at the door pulled her attention away from her mate. She knew that the knocker was Maria-Star, for she'd been actively probing the minds of everyone in the area, looking for any possible threats.

She knew that it was something she'd be doing—especially during the daytime—until they were safely back in Bon Temps.

Eric and she—along with what the queen had called their "entourage"—had arrived at the queen's guesthouse in the middle of the night, almost twelve hours before. Tray, Willow, Amelia, Molly, and Padma had already been there—to ensure that the house was secure before Eric and Sookie entered it.

That "advance team" had been chosen quite purposefully. Padma had been sent early to ensure that no unwanted magical spells had been set over the queen's guesthouse, which she and Eric would be calling "home" until February 15. Amelia had been sent to place spells of her own—the protective kind—around the guesthouse. Molly had been sent in early to make sure that the computer security system (with a work-around for Andre's overriding ability) was ready to go. And Tray had been sent in to see if he could sniff out any threats whatsoever as Willow had scouted things from above.

Because of their work and the trust that she had in her whole team, Sookie knew that the guesthouse on the queen's estate was now almost as safe as her own home in Bon Temps.

It was everywhere else in New Orleans that might get a bit tricky.

She sighed and got out of bed, slipping on her flats as she did so. Generally, she would have worn heels with the dress pants, blouse, and jacket she'd put on after her shower so that she could pretend she was a member of the queen's staff. However, Maria-Star had told her that she needed to wear shoes that allowed her to run if needed.

The Were's "orders" hadn't comforted Sookie. However, the telepath now preferred knowing the risks—facing them head-on—versus going into a dangerous situation blind or "hoping for the best." She'd learned her lesson—the hard way—from past situations when she'd acted without knowledge of the potential consequences.

It hadn't taken Sookie long to learn that Maria-Star always planned for the worst—just in case. And that thought was ultimately comforting to the telepath.

After one last look at her mate, she opened her bedroom door and greeted an excited Shadow.

"Hey baby, did you go out with Maria-Star?" she asked.

The loyal canine wagged his tail and accepted Sookie's pets as if he'd won the lottery when it came to masters.

The Were smirked. "He walked the perimeter with me like a pro, and I swear that his face screwed up like he'd smelled something foul when we stumbled upon Andre's scent on the grounds. And he growled at the damned weretiger!"

Sookie chuckled and then walked over with Shadow to his bed, signaling to the smart puppy that he needed to settle down. She looked at Amelia and Warren, who would be staying in the house with Eric as she and Maria-Star went to the queen's residence. Mustapha and Onawa were already over there, having taken up strategic positions among the queen's Were guards.

"He should be okay for a few hours, though he might want to play a bit," she said of her puppy.

"We'll look after Shadow," Amelia assured.

"Look after _him_ too," Sookie said softly as she looked toward the bedroom door, which had locked behind her. The walls of the fireproof room were reinforced, and a "Molly-created-and-protected code" was required to enter. Plus, Amelia, who had quickly become a good friend to Sookie during the past several weeks, had added what she called an "extra-oomph protection spell" around the bedroom; her mentor, Octavia, had approved. Indeed, if anything happened at all while she was on the queen's estate, Sookie was to get to that bedroom and "hunker down."

Still, Sookie didn't like leaving Eric, even under the watchful eyes of Warren, who was ready to shoot and/or blow up anything that tried to get in, and Amelia, who had plenty of magical traps she could use. In addition, Willow was shifted and was watching over the guesthouse from above, and Desmond Cataliades had "lent" them Diantha, who was stationed in the tunnel between the guesthouse and the queen's residence.

And, of course, somewhere around them all was a Britlingen, whom Sookie was beginning to get a sense of by using her ever-improving telepathy. Indeed, "finding" Batanya had become one of Sookie's favorite pastimes as of late, and every once in a while, she'd catch what felt like an echo of a mind. Somehow, Sookie knew that Batanya had caught on to her searches, too, and was making their game of "hide-and-seek" as difficult as possible for the telepath. Of course, in doing so, the Britlingen was also helping Sookie to practice her telepath in a way she'd never done before, and the fruits of that practice had already begun paying off.

Sookie shook her head a bit before focusing on the task at hand: to spy on the King of Arkansas's people. Peter Threadgill's preliminary security detail was due to arrive in the next hour, though the king would not be in New Orleans until that night. Additionally, employees from E(E)E, the event planning agency the queen had hired—and which was headed by John Quinn, the weretiger Maria-Star had mentioned—needed to be screened.

Of course, no one who wasn't "need to know" was aware of Sookie's gift. Her pretended title on the queen's staff was "the Queen's Liaison," and her pretended name was Susanna Saunders. Eric and she both preferred the idea that her own name not be used—at least, not initially—just in case her name had become known because of her work in Dallas or her time in Jackson. Sookie's task that afternoon was to coordinate with E(E)E and then with Threadgill's day-man and two-natured security team in order to finalize the "human menu"—both the food for the humans during the small summit's events and the humans _as food_ for the vampires. The last part of her "job" wasn't something Sookie was looking forward to pretending to coordinate, but—at least—it would enable her to screen the queen's donor pool and "temporary donors" for any spies or Fellowship connections.

In other words, she'd be multitasking during her first day of official work for the queen.

"Here you go," Amelia smiled as she held up what looked like a fragrance bottle. "I even made it smell like honeysuckle. You like that scent—right?" the witch asked.

Sookie smiled at her new friend, who had to be the loudest broadcaster she'd ever met. "Yes. Thanks. So this will cover up the fact that I'm bonded to Eric?"

Amelia nodded. "Yes—that, and all scents of the Supernatural variety within you."

"So—my fairy blood, too," Sookie remarked.

"Anything that's not human," the witch confirmed. "Make sure you spritz in four spots once every five hours or so. Spray here, here, here, and here," she added, motioning to the top of Sookie's head, then to the tip of her right middle finger, next toward her foot, and finally to her left middle finger. "It's best if you slip off your shoe—either foot will work—and try to hit the tip of your longest toe. It needs to come as close to your north, south, east, and west extremities as possible."

Sookie chuckled as she took the bottle; she still found the rules of magic a bit odd, but she'd already learned to listen to Amelia. "Any particular order?" she asked.

"The order I showed you in," the witch stated.

Sookie nodded and angled the bottle toward the top of her head. After a spritz, she sprayed her middle right fingertip before slipping out of her right shoe, bending down, and spraying her big toe. She completed the circuit of spritzing before slipping her shoe back on.

Amelia smiled. "Perfect."

Sookie grinned and then handed the bottle back to Amelia. "I'll be back within four hours, so I'll leave this with you for now since I won't be carrying a purse."

Maria-Star looked at the witch. "If that plan changes, I'll text you so that you can bring it to us."

Amelia nodded.

Sookie patted the quiet Warren on his arm as she walked past him before going over to the tunnel entrance. A man of few words, Warren simply nodded at her and then checked his holstered weapon. She'd learned that, although he was best with his sniper's rifle, Warren was an expert at almost every human weapon there was.

Sookie took a deep breath as she stood in front of the tunnel entrance. "Ready Maria-Star?"

"Absolutely," the Were returned, sounding almost excited about the prospect of the action before them.

That excitement was not contagious for the telepath.

* * *

John Quinn took a deep breath of the Louisiana winter air. It held so much more moisture than Las Vegas air. Indeed, Louisiana air felt downright oppressive in the summer, but Quinn didn't mind it so much in the winter.

"Hell—I would've come to do this event even if it was in August," the weretiger muttered to himself.

In truth, Quinn enjoyed _any_ excuse to get out of Vegas for a week or two, and Queen Sophie-Anne's little "summit" with King Peter Threadgill allowed him that opportunity.

He looked at his wristwatch. It was a habit really. Though the two-natured didn't have as exact a sense of time as vamps, they were never more than a few minutes off. Still, the watch had been Quinn's father's prized possession—at least, according to Quinn's mother. Having died when the weretiger was only a few months old, Jacob Quinn hadn't left his child any other legacy.

Other than the ability to turn into a powerful werecat, that is.

Quinn took out his phone when it vibrated in his pocket. He couldn't stifle his sigh as he noticed a text message from his sister. A teenager full of angst, Frannie Quinn couldn't handle it when their mother was resisting taking her medication, which apparently, she was currently doing. He sent a quick text back to assure his sister that he'd call their mother in the next hour or so. Just as he hit "send," one of the queen's daytime Were guards approached him.

"They are ready for you," he informed.

Quinn sighed again. Why he and all of his people had to meet with the Queen's Liaison—whatever one of those was—was beyond the weretiger. During the past several days and nights, he'd met extensively with Andre; Lance Johnson, the head of Sophie-Anne's daytime security; and Farrah, the queen's day-person. Moreover, the weretiger, along with his staff, had already gone through the magical ritual, which would ensure their loyalty for the duration of the contract, as well as their discretion—even after it was over.

Basically speaking, magic was already binding Quinn and his people from sharing any Louisiana secrets—or weaknesses—with anyone. The weretiger both resented and was grateful for that particular blend of magic. It had been what allowed him to open up Extreme(ly Elegant) Events to start with. Still—he resented the need for it—specifically, the fact that Felipe de Castro still "owned" him. And—almost as bad—everyone who was anyone in the Supernatural community knew it, too!

Quinn nodded to Lance Johnson as he was led into the conference room where the bulk of the marriage negotiations between Queen Sophie-Anne and King Peter Threadgill would be held.

"Quinn," Lance greeted. "I'd like to introduce you to Susanna Saunders, the Queen's Liaison."

The weretiger let out a low whistle as he took in the buxom blonde standing near the head of the table. Flanked by a female Were with a pissed off look on her face, Susanna Saunders was the kind of woman who demanded attention. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with interest as she studied him, making Quinn's dick stir.

"Well, hello, babe," he purred—as only a weretiger could—as he walked over to her with an outstretched hand.

Susanna greeted his hand with her own, and Quinn felt a few sparks as he touched the woman's soft skin. He inhaled deeply and was met with one of the lovelier human scents he'd taken in for a while. There was something fresh about the woman—fresh and ripe. He glanced at her left hand.

No ring.

"So how long have you worked here, babe?" he asked her, still holding onto her hand.

Susanna slowly pulled her hand from his. "Not long," she responded. "The queen wanted me to make sure that the donor situation was taken care of."

Quinn was disappointed that the woman's tone seemed all business. However, he shrugged off his dissatisfaction. Sophie-Anne was known for her competent staff, and the woman in front of him was likely no exception.

But that didn't mean that Miss Saunders wouldn't be up for "playing" when she was off duty.

The weretiger reached into his suit pocket and pulled out the little notepad he carried. "Andre, Lance, Farrah, and I discussed the need for fifteen additional donors on contract for the duration of the Arkansas's time here. They will arrive late this afternoon and will be housed in the two large rooms adjacent to the regular donors' quarters."

"And you have already hired the donors?" Susanna asked.

Quinn nodded. " _And_ conducted extensive background checks. My people will also screen the new donors as they enter the grounds—ensuring that none carry any weapons. Right now, a couple of my men are working with Farrah to outfit the rooms with adequate furnishings and the like."

Susanna nodded. "I just left them; they are making good progress. So, Mr. Quinn, do you foresee any issues or problems while you're here? Any vampire or were-related issues concern you?" she asked.

"Just call me Quinn, babe," he grinned. "And I can't think of anything. Lance and Andre were quite clear about what's expected of me and my people. And," he glanced at Lance, "the side work we were asked to do has been discussed as well."

"Miss Saunders is aware that the queen has asked you to provide an additional layer of security just in case the king plans to use the marriage negotiations as a distraction for conflict."

Quinn was mildly surprised that the petite human was "in the know" about that matter, but nodded nonetheless.

"Would you care to discuss more about my role here over an early dinner, babe?" he asked.

As the female Were rolled her eyes, Susanna shook her head. "No thank you, Mr. Quinn."

"Just Quinn," the weretiger corrected with a charming smile.

"No thank you," the human said again. "I have other work to attend to this afternoon and early evening."

"Perhaps, I'll see you around then—or after," Quinn said, his smile still firmly in place.

"I work here, so I am often around, Mr. Quinn," Miss Saunders said, clearly ignoring the weretiger's request that she omit the "mister" from her address of him.

The weretiger wasn't deterred. "Well—that's something to be thankful for, babe," he said with a wink as Susanna and the female Were turned to leave the room through an entrance at the opposite side of the room.

"Now _that_ is a beauty," Quinn said with a crooked grin in Lance's direction.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll give her a wide birth, mate," the Were advised, his Australian accent prominent.

"A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone," the weretiger returned.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Lance muttered as he left the room.

Quinn shrugged. "Well—at least the meeting wasn't a total waste of time," he smiled to himself as he pulled out his phone to make his call to his mother.

* * *

"Well—that's one of the most pompous people I've ever been in a room with," Maria-Star observed after she and Sookie were well out of "the" John Quinn's hearing range. "And you definitely have a fan, _babe_."

Sookie shuddered. "He does want to get into my pants. Gross!"

"Other than the ick factor, is there anything to worry about?"

"No," Sookie confirmed quickly. "He thought about how he screened the temporary donors even more than Andre had specified since his work with the Queen of California taught him that an additional check into a person's online activity could yield information that a normal background check wouldn't. Still, I'll do another scan of the all the regular donors—and spend some time with the temporary hires—before nightfall."

"At least he's good at his job—even though his flirting needs some work."

Sookie shook her head. "He's attractive, but he _really_ does think he's God's gift. I'm just glad that my telepathy is fully engaged now. I might have fallen for the charm of someone like him in the past."  
Maria-Star's lip turned up slightly to show her distaste at that idea. "Nothing else from his head?"

"Just that he's not that fond of vampires, despite making a lot of money from them. His dislike is mostly focused towards Felipe de Castro and Victor Madden though. _And_ he's overheard them talking about how it'd be nice to take over Louisiana one day."

"Really?" Maria-Star asked.

Sookie nodded. "Quinn got the impression that what he overheard wasn't something being planned for the near future, but I still think Queen Sophie-Anne should know about it.

The Were nodded in agreement. "King de Castro came into power in Nevada in a shady way—from what I've heard. If he has designs on Louisiana, the queen will want to keep an eye out."

Sookie nodded. "Other than that, Quinn is confident in his work and his abilities—as well as those of his staff. And he _feels_ loyal to the queen right now. It's the weirdest thing, but—just like the rest of his team—he's protective of her. I can sense the magic, too."

"That's good to know," Maria-Star observed. "Any issues reading him, given that he's your first weretiger?"

"None. Actually, he's easier to read than a Were," Sookie shared. "Either that, or he was just focused so much on me that his thoughts were clearer. I think all the practicing I've done on you, Onawa, Willow, Mustapha, and all the other Weres I've had contact with from Long Tooth has led to y'all bein' almost as easy as humans used to be for me."

"And Willow is still the hardest?" Maria-Star asked curiously.

Sookie nodded.

"It might come down to the size of the animal shifted into," Maria-Star mused.

"A tiger is bigger than a wolf, and a wolf is larger than a hawk?" Sookie asked.

"Perhaps."

Sookie contemplated for a moment. "Well—I'll just have to keep adding data to the file," she chuckled, tapping her head. "Do we know who's here from the Arkansas group yet?"

"Three Weres, a werebadger, and two humans at this point. More coming this evening with Threadgill."

"A werebadger!" the telepath smiled. "I've not gotten to read one of those yet. Let's go see if he or she is harder," she added, her eyes sparkling at the challenge ahead.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all! I hate missing weeks and then coming to you with an excuse, but between some particularly bad migraines, work, cleaning in anticipation of a family visit, more work, the actually family visit, more headaches, more work, and recovering from the family visit . . . I wasn't able to get chapters out the last two weeks. I know, I know—I suck big time. I did find some time to work a bit on chapters to come on this piece, and the outline is complete. I'm hoping to get you a chapter a week for the next nine weeks—at least. I have three chapters back from kleannhouse ready for final polishing, three more with her, and three more in rough draft form. Hopefully, I can get a break from work and finish the rough draft soon. I'm estimating around 37 chapters total, but we'll see. After that, I'll either turn my focus back to one of my incomplete items or be bewitched by a different piece I've been tinkering with. Regardless, thanks for continuing to read, even when I'm absent for a bit.**

 **I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter! I thought it would be fun to have this more mature version of Sookie interact with Quinn. She's soooo not falling for the "babe" nonsense this time. LOL.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	22. Chapter 21: Dark Moon

**Chapter 21: Dark Moon**

 **FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 11 • 8:00 p.m.**

Jade Flower was as expert at hiding her contempt. She always had been.

It had been her human mother who had taught her the skill.

Most people—including almost all of the vampires and all of the humans that she'd ever interacted with since she'd moved to the United States the century before—believed that she'd been a 芸者, a geisha, before being turned. She scoffed at the idea. Most had no idea what being a geisha even entailed! Contrary to popular belief, geishas were not prostitutes. In fact, Jade had been a 花魁—an _oiran_. Like geishas, they were well-known for their performing—their mastery of artistic skill. However, unlike their tamer counterparts, _oirans_ were _certainly_ also well-known—and well-trained—as sexual performers as well.

Jade had been so much more than that, however. She'd been trained—by her mother and her revered grandmother—to be a spy and an assassin. It was a family legacy—passed to Jade from eight generations of women. With each generation, a new skill was added. Jade had chosen to become an expert in the use of the _yubi-bo_ , an easily concealable short staff weapon of approximately 8-inches long. Thicker in the middle than at the ends, the _yubi-bo_ could be used to defend against other weapons. Or—in the hands of an expert—it could become a tool of death. Even at that moment, she was carrying a _yubi-bo_ , hidden below the folds of her dress. Oh course—her current model had been modified to have sharpened ends.

She could stake a vampire with her weapon of choice before he or she knew what was coming.

Jade's maker had hoped that she would add her skills to his own repertoire. But the young _oiran_ had been raised to believe that her skills were her own to use as she best saw fit. And—up to the night of her turning—she'd always chosen those for whom she worked carefully—thoughtfully.

Her maker took away her power.

But only for a little while.

He had been unwise to believe her compliant. Of course, he had no way of understanding how well her grandmother had taught her to maintain serenity and calm amidst great animosity. Because of her childhood lessons, she'd had no problem simply "not feeling" her contempt for her maker until she could eliminate his hold over her.

With her _yubi-bo_.

And—once free—she had made her way up the ladders of the vampire power structure. She enjoyed—especially—working as a second-in-command to vampires who were new to power positions, as Peter Threadgill had been when he'd taken over Arkansas in the 1980s. Jade had chosen Peter for the promise she'd felt he had. She'd liked his blatant aggressiveness. Peter had been turned in 1836—when his maker spotted him near death in the carnage of the Alamo. Peter claimed that he'd been shot in the gut and had still fought on—next to the corpse of his fallen comrade Jim Bowie, whose famous knife Peter still sported.

Having seen the king fight, Jade did not doubt his tales of valor.

Jade had liked the brashness of the "young" king. He was—for lack of a better word—so damned "American." So she'd offered her services to him after completing a contract with the King of Kentucky.

Sadly, Peter had let her down—disappointed her. After becoming the King of Arkansas, it was as if a light had been turned on within the king; however, it was not a light of ambition. I was a philanthropic one. He used most of the State's available funds to invest in the businesses and lives of the vampires of Arkansas, rather than increasing his own personal holdings. In truth, Jade did not understand such behavior. However, she was not one to go against a contract she had signed—a commitment she had made.

However, that contract was near up, and she was ready to move on— _unless_ Peter's ambitions grew to what Jade deemed appropriate for a vampire.

Following her counsel, her king was pursuing a marriage with Queen Sophie-Anne Leclerq of Louisiana. The queen's child, Andre, had—at one point—shown disrespect for Jade and her king. And the deadly vampiress could not abide such an insult. So she'd set her—and, therefore, Peter's—sights on Louisiana.

Not knowing her ultimate motives, the king believed that a marriage and an alliance with Queen Sophie-Anne would be a good thing for Arkansas. He did not know that Jade planned to engineer the queen's death—right after the signing of the marriage alliance contract—so that Peter would be king of two states.

The vampiress hoped that tripling Peter's power would put her king on a better path, for Jade still saw much potential in him. Unlike Arkansas right after Peter took over, Louisiana was already very prosperous, so she hoped that the king would not succumb to his more charitable inclinations.

Jade balked at the idea that a monarch she worked for not _exceeding_ the expectations of all in wealth and power!

She had a reputation to maintain, after all.

Of course, if Peter didn't do as she advised after she basically handed him Louisiana on a golden platter, Jade had already decided upon the next monarch she would serve, the Oklahoma Queen. Unlike Peter, Freyda had no qualms about increasing her power through unscrupulous means. And she had much ambition.

Jade had only one question left to answer: Would Peter—by remaining weak in her eyes—push her to the point that she had only contempt for him? If he did, then she was already putting into place assets that would ensure the king would have an unfortunate "accident"—on the very day her contract with him ended.

Which would just so happen to correspond to the very day that Peter would wed Freyda.

Jade figured that Freyda would take the gifts of Louisiana and Arkansas as ample evidence of the kind of usefulness that only someone like Jade (and there were not many like her) could provide.

"So, Jade. How does security look?" Peter asked as he came into the sitting room from his bedroom in the large, opulent suite the highest-ranking Arkansas vampires had been given for the negotiations.

"I have found nothing amiss, Majesty," she said with a slight bow of her head. No matter how many years she'd spent with him, she always greeted him with the same deferential gesture.

"Have our people picked up on any gossip?" he asked, a twinkle in his greenish-brown eyes.

"The Queen seems serious about the marriage negotiations," Jade responded.

"Good. I'd worried that she was yanking my chain," Peter declared in a Southern drawl that distinguished him as a Tennessean by birth. "After all, Arkansas isn't the richest of states, so her motives in aligning with me could be almost anything."

"Have you considered my proposal to raise tributes beginning in the next quarter?"

"Still considerin'," the king responded. "You're right that our sheriffs and subjects can afford more, but we keep our population up by keeping our tributes down. I'd hate to lose subjects."

"I think you underestimate the loyalty you have among your subjects," Jade observed. "You have—after all—done much to help them. Most would not have thriving businesses if it weren't for your initial investments."

"That might be the case," Peter returned, "but I learned—even as a human—that loyalty is a thing that is difficult to get, but easy to lose."

Jade knew to let the matter lie for the moment. "Our werebadger told me one more thing of note," she said after a moment's silence had passed between the monarch and his second-in-command.

Peter chuckled. "What did ol' Harley find out? I swear that bastard has the nose of a hound!"

"Harley learned that Quinn and his group have been paid an additional fee by the queen—to function as back-up security during the marriage negotiations and ball."

Peter frowned momentarily, but then shrugged. "Perhaps, Sophie-Anne is simply being extra cautious. We have no reason to suspect that she might be up to something—do we?"

"Any monarch entering into a marriage negotiation is as likely to be planning a takeover as to be hoping for an ally," Jade responded generally. At this point, she simply wanted to stir up her king's thoughts.

Peter contemplated for a moment. "Contact the sheriffs at home and instruct them to be more vigilant. And let's get Jennifer and more daytime security here ASAP."

Jade nodded and began to do as the king had bid her. As always, she hid her contempt. Few in her night-to-night life had rubbed her the wrong way as much as Jennifer Cater did. Oh—the vampiress was perfectly capable, but she had been a driving force behind Peter's more charitable inclinations and was forever butting heads with Jade about policy. Worse, Peter had made Jennifer his Second Lieutenant—right under Jade—so the Japanese vampiress had to work with the "bleeding-heart vampiress" on many projects.

Jade comforted herself by vowing that Jennifer Cater's nights were numbered—that she might even be removed during the takeover of Louisiana, which Jade hoped would occur on the night of February 14.

Just three nights away.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 12 • 3:00 a.m.**

"It will do," Appius said as he looked around the living room of the modest-sized dwelling that had been secured for Alexei, Bill, and himself.

"I'm afraid that letting you use one of the more finely appointed dwellings owned by the queen would draw my maker's attention. This home is one of my _personal_ properties," Andre informed. "And it has been heavily warded to ensure the privacy of all who are within it."

"Of course, our stay will not need to remain a secret after the night of the 14th," Bill said quickly.

"And you can—then—immediately move into a dwelling more worthy of someone of your," Andre paused, "power."

Appius inclined his head in a slight nod of acknowledgment. "And the witch? She is unaware of this place—correct? It wouldn't do to have someone of her," he paused, a look of disdain on his face, " _variety_ knowing where we are to rest."

"I am the only one who knows where you are staying, Sir," Andre assured.

"You may address me as Ocella," Appius said, looking down at the queen's child. In truth, he didn't really impress the ancient.

"Thank you," Andre said with a deferential nod.

"I look forward to meeting the queen. Meanwhile, we will require sustenance," Appius stated.

"Neither bottled nor bagged will do," Bill indicated quickly.

Andre nodded. "I will see to it that several donors are glamoured and sent here each night."

"Beginning as soon as possible _tonight_ ," Appius clarified.

Andre nodded in agreement.

"I crave A negative," Alexei piped up from the position he'd taken on the couch. He'd already discovered Andre's gaming system and had seemed oblivious to the conversation.

Of course, Alexei always had an opportunistic ear tuned in to everything around him. His maker had taught him that.

"I will do what I can," Andre assured.

"If more or better foodstuff is required, Master, I will procure it," Bill assured.

Appius nodded in the direction of his new apprentice. "Very well. Now—when will we get to meet this witch of yours?" he asked first Bill and then Andre—since both seemed to be sharing "custody" of said creature.

"Tomorrow night—if that is convenient," Andre responded. We will make our plans for the Valentine's Night Ball then as well."

"Ah—yes. Excellent. I believe the ball begins at the stroke of midnight on February 14?" the ancient asked.

"Yes, Ocella," Andre responded.

"It will be nice to interact with my eldest child again," he remarked.

Alexei scoffed from his position on the couch.

"You may find that you enjoy your brother's company too, young one," Appius said with a smile in his younger child's direction.

"I like William as my brother," the youngest vampire in the room sullenly stated.

"Thank you, Alexei," Bill preened.

"Well—it is important that you meet all of your blood kin, child," Appius said with a roll of his eyes and a knowing look toward Andre. "Tell me—have you ever made a child?"

"No," Andre responded. "I have never felt the pull."

"Ah, yes. It is important to listen to our instincts when it comes to making a new vampire. I think it is the difference, too—between whether the drained human rises a child or the fates deem him or her as being unworthy of the ultimate gift of immortality. Perhaps, I am biased. However, I believe that my own two surviving children are remarkable specimens—each in his own way."

Appius ignored when Alexei rolled his eyes at that comment; however, he did _not_ overlook the look of skepticism in Andre's eyes.

The elder's fangs clicked down, and Andre seemed to wither under Appius's sudden glare and aggression.

"I beg your pardon, Sir," Andre said quickly. "I certainly wasn't denigrating Alexei. It is Eric's," he paused, " _attitude_ that I take issue with. He is obsessed with his human—when he rightly should have offered her to the queen."

"Sookie is mine—by right," Bill said evenly, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

"That she is," Appius stated in agreement. "And I am very proud that you can now speak of her with such calm." He looked at Andre. "William, here, was once of a mind that he loved the woman. What is her name again?"

"Sookie Stackhouse," Andre responded.

"Ah—yes. Ridiculous name, but—then again—I continue to be partial to the stately nomenclatures of my birth culture. 'Livius Ocella' sounds so much more graceful than ' _Stackhouse'_ —do you not think?"

"Yes, Master," Bill agreed. "Your name is but one sign of the noble status of your human life—made even nobler by your continued existence as a vampire."

"Sir, surely you understand that the telepath ought to belong to the queen," Andre said to Appius cautiously, pulling the conversation back to the ownership of Sookie Stackhouse, as opposed to her name.

Appius was silent for a moment. "I suppose we _could_ be talked into _lending_ Miss Stackhouse to Queen Sophie-Anne every now and then; however, she _will_ belong to William here."

Andre cowered at the stern power within the ancient's voice—and at the fact that his fangs were still elongated. He'd been hoping to bind the telepath to himself—a desire heightened when he caught his first look at her earlier that night. He wanted to offer her as a tribute to his queen and maker. However, he was wise enough to know that he would not be able to withstand the wrath of Appius Livius Ocella. And he did not wish to endanger his queen either.

"You are ready to subdue Eric so that he cannot defend Miss Stackhouse against abduction—as well as to ensure that he better understands his place in Louisiana's pecking order?" Andre asked—his voice almost apologetic.

Appius's fangs clicked away as he nodded. "I will command him to never go against you or your queen," he said in a low voice. "And I also intend to command him to expel Pamela from his life."

Andre looked surprised at that last remark, but it was clear that he was pleased by it. An Eric Northman without his trusted and crafty child as a lieutenant would be a diminished vampire.

"In that case, I see no issue with the telepath coming to your," Andre paused as he looked at Bill, "nest."

"Excellent. Make sure that William has the address for the witch. And the time of our meeting—tomorrow evening?"

"9:00 p.m. I will need to be back at the queen's estate for an 11:00 p.m. negotiation meeting. Indeed, I need to get back soon and must still go by another of my safe houses to arrange for your meal delivery—and to shower."

"Ah—yes. It would not do to have my child smell me—not when I have put such an effort into covering up our maker-child connection from him so that he continues to believe that I am on the other side of the earth." Appius chuckled. "You are dismissed," he said abruptly to the queen's child.

Quickly, Andre bowed and left.

"He was unimpressive," Appius sighed. "I fear that he and others like him are the byproducts of the ease that the Great Revelation brought with it—not that the word 'great' ought to be used as a descriptor for that historical event."

Bill nodded in reverent agreement.

"Well—keep Alexei occupied. I wish to have a private visit with our guest for a bit," Appius said enthusiastically.

Again, Bill nodded—this time in obedience.

"Ah—dearest Karin!" Appius greeted with false enthusiasm as he pried open the lid of the large wooden crate where he'd stowed his captive. He pulled her roughly to her feet and then slung her onto the floor in the empty attic room, where he'd taken the crate upon their arrival at Andre's promised lodgings.

The vampiress's arms were tied tightly behind her back—both at the elbows and at the wrists—with silver twine. Her ankles, too, were tied together—as were her knees. Appius quickly moved her to sit against a wall and then removed the ball-gag that had kept her quiet during Andre's visit.

"You have looked better, my dear," he said with a grin as Karin opened and then closed her mouth like a fish gasping for air. The sound of her jaw moving back into place from where it had been dislodged due to his rough insertion of the ball-gag was incredibly satisfying to the ancient vampire.

Indeed, his torture of Karin on the plane—during the night hours, of course—had been satisfying, overall.

And—during their second night in the air after a stopover in Los Angeles the day before—it had been quite enlightening as the magic which had covered her true scent and the secrets of her blood had finally worn off.

"Tell me. Have you called your maker to you yet? Can't he feel your distress?" he taunted.

Karin looked at Appius defiantly.

"You don't want him to fly in here and be harmed—do you?"

She said nothing.

" _Or_ ," he grinned, "is it that your maker-child bond has been _so_ damaged by Eric that you can no longer call him as a child _ought_ to be able to call a maker?"

Still, Karin was silent.

"You know—I am _quite_ vexed that Eric deceived me about you. It seems he was worried about what I might have made him do to you. Or maybe he was simply ashamed of you and wanted to hide the fact that he'd made you at all," the ancient sneered, even as he took a switchblade from his pocket. He sliced into Karin's left cheekbone and then leaned down to lick the blood she lost.

Appius sighed deeply. "I can barely taste him. Barely smell him in you. Barely _feel_ him. But as soon as your ingenious potions wore off, there was no mistaking who your maker was. Eric was wise—I think—to hide you from me. For that is what he told you he was doing—isn't it? Isn't that why he so thoroughly severed your maker-child bond so that even I—with my heightened senses—would not be able to sense the connection until I was right next to you?"

Karin said nothing, though her glare at her maker's maker was consistent.

"I understand, of course," Appius said evenly. "It was a difficult time for me. I'd just made a child who did not survive the turning—a young man with such beauty that a sculptor could have made him his only muse. However, the fates did not deem the young man worthy to be a vampire."

Appius walked over to the lone window in the attic. "It is painful when a child does not rise. And I was— _rightfully_ —quite disconcerted by the fact that Eric had successfully turned a child— _you_ —not long before I made my attempt. I felt that I would find," he paused, "distraction with family, but my child kept some of that familial connection from me." His eyes trained to the night, he slowly licked the switchblade before putting it back into his pocket.

"Oh—I would have had such fun with you! I think it would have helped to salve my loss. And Eric _owed_ me for the life I gave him—for the lessons I taught him. For the sweet companionship I provided for the first two hundred years of his life."

"There was _nothing_ sweet about the companionship he had to endure with you!" Karin said venomously.

Appius smirked. "Ah—so you do speak!"

Karin closed her lips firmly, her eyes defiant.

"Did he try to convince you that he did not enjoy me?" Appius asked. "Oh—how that boy could deceive even himself! Certainly, there were some nights when he _begged_ for mercy, but there were others when he begged for _more_."

"You twisted bastard!" Karin seethed.

"You defend your maker even though he clearly didn't _want_ you enough to keep you by his side—as he has Pamela."

Karin flinched. "He was protecting me from you."

"Ah—I wouldn't have toyed with you or him perpetually. You both could have weathered the storm of my grief." Appius moved from the window to stand next to where Karin sat and then squatted down to look more closely at the vampiress for a moment. She did not blink under his gaze.

The stare-down ended with Appius's laughter. "You _love_ him—don't you? Yet he has _always_ preferred others. Has he sent Pamela away as he sent you away? No. He keeps her by his side. Has he irreparably broken the maker-child bond between himself and her? No. He holds to that tie.

His lips moved into a sinister sneer. "Has he ever felt for you _even a fraction_ of what he now feels for the telepath at his side? No!"

Karin blinked.

"You were—you _are_ —in love with him. I imagine that you despise Sookie Stackhouse."

Karin flinched at the telepath's name.

"I am right. You hate her. You envy her, for Eric has given _to her_ all that he has withheld from you! He has bonded with her; I can feel that much. I felt it happening from the other side of the globe! Surely, even with the pittance of a connection you still have with him, you felt it as well. By contrast, he broke the bond he had with you, leaving only enough of a link with him to remind you of the emptiness that remains."

He smiled. "I have finally figured out the use that I will have for you, grandchild." He rose to stand at his full height. "Yes. You have offered me all the information that I need to," he paused, " _help_ you to get that which your heart desires the most."

He moved quickly to open the door of a small closet in the attic; there was only a ratty old blanket inside of it. "Perfect," he said with satisfaction before swooping up the vampiress and then tossing her inside of the closet. He then put the blanket over her before shutting the closet door.

"So perfect!" he laughed evilly before leaving Eric's child to stew upon his words to her.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all! Likely, it was difficult to enjoy this chapter—because it had Appius in it—but I hope you liked it nonetheless. So—what do you think of Jade? I always thought she was a potentially interesting character, though I hated that she killed Gladiola in the books. Anyway, this story allows me to develop her a bit. I always love a good female badass villain. And—of course—there is Appius. Have I left enough clues for you to sort of figure out what kind of thing he is planning for poor Karin?**

 **Let me know what you think.**

 **Speaking of thinking, I have a STORY RECOMMENDATION for you. If you have been reading in this fandom for a while, you probably know about ficlet78 and her incredible stories for our fandom. In my top five EVER fics (by someone else—lol) is her **_**Five, As Agreed Upon**_ **. It's mid-sized, sexy, and perfectly paced for me. Also among my faves is her incomparable** _ **Pretty Kitty**_ **. Hands down, that is the sexiest Eric/Sookie fic out there for my money. Anyway, she's back to writing. Some of you will be disappointed that she's not writing for Eric & Sookie. However, she has begun a story for the **_**North & South**_ **fandom (the BBC miniseries version is great; the novel is by Elizabeth Gaskell). Anyway, if you are familiar with that work and love ficlit78 like I do, you have to check out her story called** _ **Nary a Thought for England**_ **. And make sure you have a cold shower available. Reading the first chapter inspired me to watch** _ **North & South**_ **again. It's free on Netflix now—if you have that. Anyway, I know that she would love to see some of the ol' SVM/TB readers commenting on her new story. I still have hopes that she'll get another Eric/Sookie story into her head, though her life is now a lot busier than it was when she had time to write more. Still—here's to hoping!**

 **Until next week,**

 **Kat**


	23. Chapter 22: I Can Help

**Chapter 22: I Can Help**

 **SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 12 • 7:00 p.m.**

Desmond Cataliades sighed deeply as he looked at a picture of himself and his dearest friend, Fintan Brigant.

"I miss you, Finn," he said as he took a handkerchief to wipe a smudge off of the frame's glass.

The demon knew that he would never forget the conversation the two of them had regarding Adele and Finn's offspring and how the fairy wished that all of them born with the spark of the Fae would be "blessed" with telepathy.

"So that they would always see danger coming," the part-demon recalled his friend's exact words.

The problem was that the spell he, Finn, and Octavia Fant had dreamed up to transfer the demon's telepathy had been faulty. Instead of developing her own telepathy at the age of fifteen— _after_ she had been told of her lineage and taught how to control her ability—Sookie had suffered from it throughout her life.

"From her first memory," Desmond sighed. "How can I ever make up for that?"

The part-Dae's musing was interrupted when the thoughts of another being entered his own telepathic range.

A fairy! And one whose brain he didn't recognize! And one whom he could not scent!

Quickly, the demon took an iron dagger out of his desk drawer and stood—ready to face a fight if need be. There were wards around his office, but many fairies had ways of getting around the combination of Dae and witch magic Desmond used to protect himself.

There was a knock on his office door.

That was a good sign; a fairy with malintent would have likely just "popped" into his office or burst through his door.

"I mean you no harm," came a soft female voice.

Another good sign.

Fairies weren't in the practice of lying, though—contrary to the popular belief among the Supernatural community—they _were_ capable of misleading their foes.

"Who are you?" Desmond called out.

"I am of Pythia," the woman claimed. "And I know that you can sense deception from a fairy with your gift—though you cannot read my thoughts unless I allow it, Desmond Cataliades."  
"Pythia?" Desmond grasped.

"The lady asks for your service."

Desmond moved toward the door and took a deep breath before opening it.

The woman on the other side was beautiful—as all fairies were. She looked to be about eighteen human years old, but was likely quite a bit older by fairy standards. She was dressed in a long red dress and deep blue cloak—the garb of one of the Ancient Pythoness's handmaidens.

"Who are you?" Desmond re-asked his question.

"I am of Pythia," the woman repeated patiently. "She saved my life long ago, and I serve her. And I will continue to serve her until she tells me that I am finished."

The demon nodded automatically. He'd heard rumors that Pythia had "collected" her handmaidens by using her gift to save the lives of worthy women of all species. How the vampires and the fairies in her group coexisted was a question that Desmond had long had—though the woman's lack of a discernable scent explained a lot.

"I have come because _she_ requires a favor of you," the fairy stated.

"Of me?" Desmond asked, still dumbfounded. "But she and I have not met—at least, not formally."

The fairy's eyebrow lifted. "A seer often meets people in unusual ways. She has seen you in some of her visions, and she knows you can deliver that which she requires tonight."

"And what is that?" the part-Dae asked.

"A meeting with the Britlingen you hired to protect Sookie Stackhouse."

Desmond frowned and shook his head. "Batanya is needed close to Sookie at this time; she is in New Orleans, away from the safety of the nest the Viking has created for her in Bon Temps."

"The Britlingen will not be required from the hour of 3:00 a.m. until 4:00 a.m. this night. During that time, Sookie will be safely with her mate doing what mates do best," she smirked. "It is at 3:10 a.m.—at that _precise_ time—that my lady requests that Batanya come to her. You are able to contact the Britlingen—correct?"

Desmond nodded. "To ensure Sookie's comfort with my involvement, I gave her and Eric Northman complete control over determining the full range of Batanya's duties while she is Sookie's protector. However, I _do_ have a way to request that she call me; however, she may well refuse to leave her charge's side."

The fairy smiled serenely. "She will not refuse once you tell her who is asking for her. Contact her, and have her meet the great lady at this address," she said, handing Desmond a small card. "You need not worry about this information getting into the wrong hands, for only you can read it, and only Batanya can hear it."

"I can smell the magic on it," Desmond commented on the complex concoction that literally weighed down the small object in his hands. "Am I to accompany Batanya?"

"No!" the fairy responded quickly and definitively. "Pythia does not need an audience with you, though she does appreciate your willingness to do her favor." Her soft smile returned. "My lady did ask me to tell you that—if all goes as desired during the next few days—Miss Stackhouse will—soon enough—wish to have a robust relationship with you."

"Will she?" Desmond asked hopefully.

"Oh yes! She will call you 'uncle'—as will her brother Jason," the fairy said with almost youthful enthusiasm.

"Jason?"

She looked at the demon a bit more sharply. "Do not discount the young man."

"He has no spark of the Fae," Desmond commented.

The fairy's brow rose. "You are but _part_ -Dae. My lady charged me with reminding you that it was a simple genetic happenstance that allowed you to develop Dae gifts, instead of predominantly human traits. And what of any children you might have? Would you care less for them if they lacked the power to wield Dae magic?"

"No," Desmond responded quickly, clearly dismayed at the thought of his obvious prejudices. "It is just that Finn asked me to be a caretaker only for his offspring with a spark," he tried to explain.

"I know of Fintan Brigant—from my mistress," the fairy said evenly. "His was a tragic story in many ways. And he was an imperfect being—as are we all. You will like Jason Stackhouse tremendously once you let yourself know him. It is your relationship with him that will open the way for your closeness with Sookie, according to my lady. But you will discover greater kinship with him than with her."

Desmond's features and posture seemed to relax a bit, and he smiled at the fairy. "Will you tell your mistress that she has my thanks for her insight. It is," he paused, "valuable to have help in seeing one's own hypocrisies and flaws."

The fairy nodded.

"I will contact the Britlingen immediately," the demon assured as the fairy turned to leave.

"My lady knows," she said from over her shoulder before "popping" away.

The demon stood frozen in place for a moment before pulling out his phone.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 12 • 8:00 p.m. (one hour after the previous scene)**

"How long has it been?" Russell Edgington asked the being behind him.

Niall Brigant chuckled. "About a million years."

The vampire smirked, stood, and turned to face his old adversary.

"Even we are not that old," the ancient vampire stated as he nodded in greeting.

"Sometimes I feel it," Niall responded tiredly, before returning the nod.

"I must say that the years have been kind to you, though they have been kinder to me, old friend," Russell smirked.

"That is because you do not age—not even slowly. And since when have you and I been friends?" the fairy asked with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes, even as he moved to sit in the companion chair to the one that Russell had been relaxing in.

"I don't suppose we are friends. But we haven't found ourselves in a conflict in a while either," Russell remarked as he retook his seat.

"Do you miss them? The wars that once occurred between your kind and mine?" Niall asked curiously. "Surely, you miss getting your hands on one of us—now and then?"

"Your kind _is_ delectable," Russell acknowledged with a lick to his lips that was meant neither to intimidate his company nor to offend him. "But no. I do not miss the wars. Too many of my kind were lost when they fell victim to your honeypots."

The two elders sat silently, each remembering the great wars that had once occurred between vampires and fairies—decimating many among their numbers. The fairies' most effective tactic was offering up a "treat" to their enemies, usually a prisoner they allowed to "take his or her chances." The individual would be "set free" two hours before sunrise near a vampire encampment. He or she was the prey; the vampires were the predators. If the prey survived until daytime, he or she could escape and live freely in the human realm. If not, the vampires gorged and became drunk—sitting ducks for the Fae army.

Time and again, the vampires succumbed to such tricks because most of them lost their reason completely around fairies, even after only a single sip.

"I have lost my appetite for war as well," Niall sighed. "It has taken _much_ from me."

"I heard that the Fae realm is split—that there is a Civil War—not that I've heard many details," Russell shared.

"The realm _is_ split. My brother and I are at odds."

"Rogan always was a loose cannon," Russell remarked. "But a formidable foe."

"Yes. His son Breandan is his lieutenant. And my child, Dermot, serves them both."

"Are the rumors that he was the cause of Fintan's death true?" Russell asked the tired-looking prince.

"Yes," Niall confirmed. "In a move of gross hypocrisy, Dermot now believes—as does my brother—that any fairy-human hybrid should be destroyed. Rogan has convinced many to go along with his insane notion that the gods are angry at the Fae for polluting our bloodlines—so angry that they have made it difficult for Fae women to procreate."

Russell shook his head. "I suppose that Dermot is conveniently forgetting the fact that _he_ is part-human."

"He intends to kill himself—once he's eliminated the second-to-last human-fairy hybrid," Niall disclosed. "Telling Neave and Lochlan where—and how—to hunt for his brother was how Dermot gained Rogan's trust."

"I am sorry to hear of the breach within your family," the vampire spoke sincerely.

Niall exhaled deeply. "I maintain the upper hand over my brother—for now."

Russell nodded. "That is welcome news. Rogan is an ass and would likely breach the vampire/Fae peace accords that have survived a millennium."

Niall nodded in agreement and the two ancients were silent for a moment.

"I have come—after all of these years—to collect on the debt you owe," the fairy finally said.

Russell stared at him for a moment—as if he might be trying to glamour him. Of course, Niall could not be glamoured.

"What is the favor you ask?" the vampire monarch finally asked. "Do you wish for me to kill Dermot for you? Or Rogan?"

"No," Niall returned softly. "I still hold out for a magical intervention with my child. And Rogan and his son will die by _my_ sword," he added fiercely.

"Then what are you here to ask of me?"

"I believe you turned down Queen Sophie-Anne's invitation—to her Valentine's Night Ball?" Niall asked.

"Yes," Russell confirmed. "Threadgill is not a horrible king, but I despise being at any event that involves Jade Flower."

"An old foe?" Niall asked.

"Not really, though she did assassinate Queen Josefina of Portugal. Josefina was lovely, but not a particular ally of mine." Russell shrugged. "Plus, that was years ago. And, of course, powerplays sometimes happen. Miss Flower just comes across as one always ready to stab _someone_ in the back. I don't want to give her any opportunities to make that someone— _me_ ," Russell chuckled. "And—to be frank—I have no desire to go to such a social gathering as the ball. I must admit to being rather the isolationist these days. I was tempted though. Eric Northman has apparently bonded with a human." His eyes narrowed as he came to a realization. "A _human_ whose eyes she seems to have inherited from _family_ and who has an uncommonly sweet smell."

Niall smiled a little. "You always were a bit _too_ observant. As it happens, the favor I need involves Eric Northman and his bonded, Sookie Stackhouse."

"She is brave," Russell remarked.

"I did not know that you had interacted with Sookie," Niall returned with some surprise in his tone.

"She came to my territory under false pretenses," Russell chuckled. "Of course, she cannot make an entrance like you do! No 'popping,'" he grinned.

"I don't 'pop,'" Niall scoffed.

"Then what do you call it?" Russell asked.

"My teleporting is _soundless_ ," the fairy prince emphasized somewhat sullenly. "And I worked very hard for it to become that way."

Russell smirked. "Ah—yes. Your silent approach—added to your rare ability to hide your scent fully—once made you the vampires' most deadly foe."

"Except for the fact that I did not kill _you_ ," Niall stressed, his eyebrow raised.

"No. You did not," Russell chuckled. "And that is something I have remained grateful for. However, I _did_ do you service in exchange."

"After I let you go, you took a message to the one in command of the vampire forces," Niall reminded flatly. "It's not as if that was a difficult task."

"Thus, the favor I owe," Russell nodded.

"The favor."

"So—what is this favor you need?"  
"I need for you to go to the Valentine's Night Ball and subdue Appius Livius Ocella—but only when the time is right," Niall responded.

Russell's eyes widened. "Don't fucking joke!"

"I'm being serious," the fairy said.

The vampire shook his head. "As much as we might joke about being a million years old, you must be aware of Appius's age in comparison to mine!" Russell exclaimed.

"I am aware that he is older than you," Niall said evenly.

"And you are also aware that he is a malicious psycho?!"

"I am aware of that too," the fairy chucked. "And that is why you must wait until a _very precise moment_ to make your move against him."

"Oh—and how am I to know that moment?" Russell asked sarcastically.

"A mutual friend told me just when you must strike—for the greatest chance of success."

"You and I don't have any mutual friends!" the vampire scoffed.

"We have _one_ ," Niall responded.

"You can't mean . . . ," Russell began.

" _She's_ exactly whom I mean," the fairy answered.

Russell closed his eyes tightly. "Does she guarantee success?"

"No," Niall sighed. "And—if you fail—it will mean your final death."

"That information is not really an encouragement for me to go to Louisiana!" Russell hissed.

"That is why I am here," the fairy spoke, "asking for that debt— _in person_."

Russell shook his head in denial.

"It was 1100 years ago that I chose not to kill you—that I protected you from Rogan when he disagreed with my idea to use you as a messenger," the fairy said in almost a whisper.

The vampire nodded—almost imperceptivity.

"You were but 200-years-old then." Niall gestured around the room. "I saw something in you—the promise of _this_ ," he emphasized. "And you have become a good king, Russell Edgington. However, had it not been for me," he paused, "the magic that animates you would have been extinguished when you were a very young vampire, indeed."

"I know," Russell acknowledged in barely a whisper.

The two elders were silent for a moment.

" _How_ is my great-granddaughter brave?" Niall finally asked when Russell seemed to be almost in down-time as he stared at the fireplace.

"That's what she is to you—your great-granddaughter?"

The fairy nodded. "Fintan loved a human woman, and with her, he produced two children—though both are dead now. Neave and Lochlan killed the boychild, Corbett. The girlchild, Linda, was taken by the human disease—cancer. Corbett had two children. One of them has the essential spark."

"Sookie. She did seem _different_ to me. But—to be honest—I did not connect her to you until I saw you again. The color of her eyes did, however, nag at me for several nights, but I could not place it."

"The memory slipping?" Niall asked with some amusement.

Russell looked sideways at his companion. "My attention span—really. Though I found the girl oddly familiar, I was more focused on why Northman was in my territory in one of his guises."

Niall chuckled loudly. "I have heard that the Viking is not above taking on another persona to infiltrate a place."

"Of course, he knew that I would know him," the vampire king commented. "But he didn't want his presence away from Louisiana to be immediately known to his queen. I played along, of course."

The fairy nodded. "Do you believe he truly cares for my great-granddaughter?"

"Undoubtedly," Russell responded simply.

The fairy looked relieved for a moment and then seemed to be studying his one-time foe and—now—quasi-friend. "Will you do what I have asked of you?"

Russell was quiet for a moment. "Even the immortal life can seem short at times. And—in a flash—it can be ended." Again, there was a stretch of silence. "I don't often find myself at Josephine's."

"Josephine's?" Niall asked with confusion.

"A bar—also called Club Dead by the Weres—in an almost-abandoned part of downtown Jackson."

The fairy nodded for Russell to continue, though he clearly didn't understand the sudden subject change.

"I am not often there, but I was feeling a bit restless one night. An entourage quickly formed for the outing." He smirked. "I enjoy showing up somewhere unexpected. The goblin who acts as the doorman, Mr. Hob, was amusingly nonplussed by my presence. It is at Josephine's that I met your great-granddaughter. She saved my second-in-command, Betty Joe Pickard."

"Saved her?" Niall asked.

"Have you heard of the Fellowship of the Sun?"

The fairy nodded. "A bit. Are they not a fundamentalist religious group—intent upon the eradication of your kind?" he asked with a smirk.

"That's the one," Russell chuckled. "Usually, they are a mere nuisance, but Steven Newlin, one of the group's leaders, and a flunky discovered the existence of Josephine's and decided to do a little vampire hunting. Betty Joe was their chosen target. Sookie stepped between the stake and my second's heart, and—in the process—was injured in the side—quite badly." He gestured to the place of the wound on his own body.

"I arranged for a healing for her," the vampire continued. "Eric did not leave her side, though he continued to pretend that he was someone else. And he also pretended that he wasn't about to rattle apart due to his concern for her." He smiled at Niall. "But affection like the Viking has for your kin cannot be faked, nor could he hide it—given the direness of the situation."

"I know only a bit about Eric Northman—mostly rumors," Niall commented. "Is he as arrogant as I have heard?"

Russell chuckled. "He seems to be so at first. But I would say that he is more confident than arrogant. And his status and wealth in this world have been hard-earned. When I first met him, for instance, I wanted nothing to do with him, given who his maker is. But he has gained the respect of many—including myself—despite that unfortunate connection."

The fairy smiled faintly. "I would not have had my kin link her life to a vampire. But—clearly—she has made her own choice, and it seems it is a good one for her."

"And now you wish for me to help her and Eric—to risk myself by trying to subdue a vampire exponentially more powerful than I am." Russell leaned forward a bit. "Why don't _you_ simply do it?"

Niall was silent for a moment, his visage reflecting both guilt and regret. "I would like nothing better. But _she_ has told me to do nothing to try to affect Sookie's life at this time." He shook his head. "I'd even arranged for my granddaughter, Claudine, to watch over Sookie, but I've been told that—even that much—would lead to a chain of events that would put Sookie into grave danger." He inhaled deeply. "I want nothing more than to know Sookie—to gain the trust and the love of Fintan's granddaughter. To know my beloved son again—through my great-granddaughter. And—the gods help me—I am tempted, despite even what _she_ told me, to try to play the savior so that I can ingratiate myself to Sookie."

"But going against _her_ advice is not a wise move," Russell stated.

"It would be idiotic," the fairy chuckled. "But a part of me," he paused, "stubbornly believes that I could keep Sookie safe even if my enemies learned of her."

"Ah—so Pythia told you that your enemies would harm Sookie if you helped her," Russell guessed.

Niall nodded in confirmation. "And anyway, Sookie does not even know me. She has only recently learned of her familial connection to the Brigant line, and she recognizes—rightly—that it has done nothing during her life to aid her. Fintan—in his desire to be as nondisruptive to the life of his human beloved as possible—found a way to hide all of his descendants with Adele Stackhouse from me. And that way held firm until he was killed by my enemies. Now—if I interact with Sookie, her connection to me will be known. I have been told that _any_ contact I have with her—at least, at this time—will lead to immense suffering for my great-granddaughter. And I would not have that," he added softly.

Niall spoke his next words with a mixture of resolution and regret. "I am sorry to burden you with a duty I would like to fulfill. But _she_ was very clear. If I show up to subdue—or to _try_ to subdue—Appius Livius Ocella, then my enemies will learn of my connection to Sookie quickly. And even a Britlingen can be overwhelmed—not to mention the agony Sookie will feel when all of her other guards are slain by Rogan's forces, which Pythia has foreseen—if I interfere."

"There is a Britlingen guard?" Russell asked with surprise.

Niall nodded. "But before you ask—she will be busy when _you_ are needed."

The vampire king shook his head. "Will Pythia—at least—offer me the details that will ensure I have the greatest chance of success against that monster?" he asked with a certain amount of resignation.

"Details? _Her_?" Niall queried with a twinkle in his eye.

Russell rolled his eyes. "What _can_ you tell me then?"

" _She_ said merely that you will know when and how—that it will become clear to you when you should take your chance against Appius. However, it is essential that you subdue him, rather than kill him. Killing him is not your role. Oh—and you must not tell anyone else about our conversation or _her_ instructions, not even that you expect Appius to be in attendance."

The vampire scoffed. "I fucking hate you right now—you know that?"  
"Do this, and it will not just make up for the debt you owe. It will leave me in your debt," the fairy prince offered with sincerity.

Russell scoffed. "I'll take your debt. But I will do this because I don't want to owe you anymore, because I am in the debt of Sookie Stackhouse, and because," he paused, "I don't like many vampires."

"And you like Northman?" Niall supplied.

"Enough to know that he deserves an existence without the need to worry about his damned maker."

"Damned is correct," the fairy remarked darkly.

"Let us hope."

Niall nodded.

"At least, tell me one thing," the vampire requested.

"What?"  
"If this all goes as we hope, will Appius be gone? Permanently?" Russell asked.

Niall nodded. "He will. And I will have taken my first step toward earning my great-granddaughter's trust—when I am finally able to make contact with her safely."

"But I will have done all the work," the vampire snorted.

The fairy grinned. "It has been too long, Russell," he said, getting up.

"Let's make it even _longer_ next time," the vampire intoned, "unless—of course—I need to call in my favor."

With a smirk, the fairy teleported away.

Russell closed his eyes tightly for a moment before moving to leave his study. He didn't bother chastising his chief vampire or Were guards, who were both in the office they shared right next door.

Niall Brigant was not a fairy whose teleporting could be discerned by most. Plus, the wards to the king's home protected that space only from beings of ill-will. And—despite the fact that Niall's visit might ultimately get Russell killed—the fairy's purpose hadn't been a malicious one.

The vampire monarch spent a few seconds contemplating whether or not he should call Bartlett Crowe, with whom he'd begun negotiating an alliance of his own. He shrugged off the idea, however. He and Barty were not yet ready to "go public" with their potential alliance, and it already seemed as if the "thunder" caused by Sophie-Anne's engagement was going to be stolen enough—by Appius.

"Talbot!" Russell yelled out to his human companion.

The attractive Greek man appeared in the hallway as soon as Russell topped the stairs.

"My love?" he asked, his accent causing Russell's loins to stir.

"You know how you wished to get out more—and, specifically, to go to Sophie-Anne's ball?"

"Yes?" Talbot responded excitedly.

"Call your tailor," the vampire winked. "He'll need to work overnight and into the morning."

Talbot jumped up and down excitedly.

Russell chuckled. "I'll arrange for us to leave for New Orleans at 4:00 p.m. tomorrow. How does a suite at the Hotel Monteleone sound to you? I know you developed a crush on the head concierge there," the vampire winked. "And the ball does not begin until midnight. Plus, we will plan to stay one additional night as well."

This time, Talbot's reaction was to squeal. He quickly ran to Russell and kissed his lips before running off to his bedroom to begin packing. Chuckling to himself, the king progressed to his own luxurious chambers. Before commencing with his packing, he took out his phone and dialed.

"Betty Joe," he greeted when the call was picked up.

"Your majesty," his second-in-command returned respectfully. "What can I do for you this evening?"

"I have decided to go to New Orleans—to the queen's Valentine's Night Ball. And I wish for you to accompany me and Talbot. In addition to yourself, please arrange for an appropriate day and nighttime security force. We'll stay at Hotel Monteleone, fly from Jackson tomorrow at 4:00 in the afternoon and return when we rise on the 16th."

"You don't want me to stay in Mississippi?" Betty Joe asked, surprised that her king was including her in the trip. She had a right to be. His trusted lieutenant generally stayed in Mississippi whenever he left the state. But this time, he had two reasons for wishing her to go.

First, if he was slain, he wanted his second-in-command there to immediately take over the leadership of Mississippi—if she lived through the night. Plus, if she was alive, then it would mean that Appius had been killed—even if Russell was slain. Alternatively, if both he and Betty Joe were slain, then his third-in-command, Tomás, would take over. While Betty Joe might very well wish to retaliate if her king were slain—and retaliating against Appius would likely lead to the decimation of the Mississippi vampire population—Tomás would be much more cautious. And—to be frank—his sensibilities would be better for Mississippi if prudence was called for.

Second, Russell knew that Betty Joe would do anything in her power to come to the aid of Sookie Stackhouse if her life were threatened. The vampiress owed her. And the king figured that—in the coming nights—Sookie could use all the help she could get.

After all, he had designs on hiring her soon!

It took the king only a moment to shift through his thoughts. "I think it's high time that you had a bit of fun, Betty Joe," he said to his second-in-command. "Tomás can manage things for the couple of nights that we are gone. And—of course—it's only a fifty-minute flight back to Jackson."

"And—driving—we would be across the Mississippi state line in less than half an hour," Betty Joe stated.

"Exactly," Russell responded, grateful that his lieutenant was clearly concerned with the security of their state.

"I will make all the arrangements," the vampiress stated after a moment. "And I will contact Tomás."

"Excellent," the King of Mississippi responded before hanging up to dial the direct line to the Louisiana Queen.  
"Goddamned fairies and prophetesses," he sighed to himself before the call was answered.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all! Sorry I'm late getting this to you. I had some work that had to get prioritized. I also might not be back to post next week. The wonderful Kleannhouse has a group of chapters for this story to get through, but she's been incredibly busy. And she is also being affected by the hurricane right now. So I'm not about to pressure her time. Just know that I'll be back as soon as I can.**

 **What did you think about this chapter? It's always fun to bring in the fairies, and I love Mr. C. If you watched the show, you might wonder at the age I gave Russell. In the books, his age is never really set down in stone, though I always had the impression he was older than Eric. I decided to make him around 1300. Please let me know your thoughts if you have the time/inclination.**

 **All the best,**

 **Kat**

 **To everyone in the track of Hurricane Dorian, you have my thoughts.**


	24. Chapter 23: Witchcraft

**Chapter 23: Witchcraft**

 **SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 12 • 9:00 p.m.**

Stepping from the van that Bill had driven from their safe house to the dwelling that Hallow was currently occupying, Appius took in the exterior of the old plantation manor with the eyes of a vampire who knew how to survive through a myriad of situations—as well as a connoisseur of architectural design.

"Ah—Greek revival style! A fine specimen!" he enthused to Bill. "And the selection of Doric columns, rather than Corinthian—as I believe was more common in this region at the time of the plantation's building—was an excellent choice. Simple lines, William, are often needed to complement a masterpiece." He looked at his young ward. "You have a plantation home as well, I believe?" he asked.

"Yes," Bill returned. "It is, unfortunately, in worse shape than this one. However, I had begun the process of restoring it to its former glory before," he paused, "Eric began to interfere with my business."

Appius shook his head. "My first child never did have much appreciation for the finer things in life." He sighed dramatically. "I have seen many glorious structures lost to time. Let us commit to restoring your estate as you train Miss Stackhouse to be a model pet and then child," he determined. "And I shall have Eric pay for the restoration so that he will begin to understand the place of honor you will hold at my side."

"That would be gratifying, Master," Bill said with a nod.

"Both in terms of rebuilding your home and sticking it to my eldest child," Appius smirked as his winked at Bill.

"Indeed," he replied.

"Father, how long will this take? I wish to return to my game," Alexei whined as he got out of the back seat.

"Not too long," Appius returned, ruffling Alexei's hair affectionately. "Ah—I see our hosts have stepped out to greet us!"

Andre moved from the large, creaky porch of the plantation house to the path leading to where Bill had parked on the long driveway. "Ocella, may I introduce you to the witches, Hallow and Mark Stonebrook."

"Ah—I have heard of your talents, Hallow. And I can sense your strength," Appius said appreciatively before momentarily regarding her brother. He turned his attention back to the stronger of the two.

"As I can sense yours, Appius Livius Ocella," Hallow returned with a respectful nod of her head. "And, you must be Alexei," she added—looking at the younger vampire.

Alexei did not acknowledge her.

"Shall we plan tomorrow night's events inside?" Andre asked, stretching out his arm to gesture toward the home's entrance.

"Certainly. Might I bring in a guest?" Appius asked. "Don't worry. She'll stay out of the way."

Hallow lifted her eyebrow. "An ally we are not aware of?"

Appius merely laughed as he opened the back of the van, revealing a wooden crate. "She may very well turn out to be an asset; however, for now, let's stow her someplace where she cannot hear us—shall we?"

"Who is it?" Andre asked curiously.

"A surprise for Eric," Appius smiled sinisterly. "That's all you need to know—for now," he added, his voice icy.

Andre looked as if he were about to question his elder, but a stern gaze from Appius halted him. Instead, the queen's child nodded in compliance.

Appius turned to the witch. "Can your brother arrange for my cargo to be transported to a place of safety for the duration of our meeting?"

"You know that he's my brother?" Hallow asked, impressed by the elder's senses. Her stronger power and the V she'd infused in their blood generally covered up the genetic kinship she had with her sibling.

Appius nodded. "Indeed. I can also sense that you have both had the blood of my kind recently; however, I ask—in the _firmest_ of ways—that this crate _not_ be opened to satisfy any of the appetites of those inside of this home. Perhaps, later, a donation might be made from the occupant—to you and your brother."

Hallow nodded. "Such a gift would be welcome, for I too have honed senses, and the one in the box has well-aged blood, though not—of course—as powerful as your own."

Appius smirked. "I doubt if you would find many with blood as potent as mine on this continent."

"Perhaps, a sample could be arranged?" Hallow asked, her lips twitching a little as if hoping to catch a taste of the ancient's blood just by being in his presence.

Appius said nothing to that request.

"Mark!" Hallow cried, getting her brother's attention, which was fixed upon and studying Appius as if the elder vampire might attack at any moment; in contrast, his sister seemed almost relaxed with Appius. "See to the crate," she ordered. "Put it in the cellar, and put one of your blocking spells around it so that no one can get in or out. And make sure the others in the coven and, especially, Miss Pelt, are given tasks that will keep them out of our way for the next few hours."

Mark nodded and moved toward the crate.

"William, give Mr. Stonebrook a hand—will you?" Appius asked his young apprentice. "And then join us."

"Of course, Master," Bill agreed with a deferential nod, even as he easily picked up the crate with Karin the Slaughterer inside. The Civil War veteran had no idea what Appius's plans were for her, but he was happy to do his master's bidding.

* * *

 **FIFTY MINUTES LATER**

"It all seems straightforward enough, and that is usually for the best." Appius remarked.

Bill nodded. "Yes, Master. Over-complication can lead to mistakes."

"Indeed," the elder proclaimed. "So—to sum up—the ball is due to start at midnight. Not long after, the Pelt woman will be allowed to get close enough to the telepath to create the need for Miss Stackhouse to be hurried back to her guest quarters."

When the elder paused, Andre picked up the plan's narrative. "Yes. The guards loyal to me will ensure that Miss Pelt is able to enter the mansion and present herself as a sufficiently menacing threat."

"Sookeh is not to be harmed," Bill cried out, his passion causing him to revert to his thick, antiquated Southern accent.

Appius looked sharply at the younger vampire. "William, we have talked about your need for control _several_ times—have we not?" he asked coldly. "Do we need to revisit the kinds of punishments you were required to endure during your first days with Alexei and me?"

Alexei sniggered.

Bill lowered his head quickly. "I am sorry, Master. If you feel that I deserve punishment, then I will gratefully accept."

Pleased, the elder vampire smirked at his young ward. He knew that Bill would not only accept the punishment, but enjoy it—though he would feel guilty for that enjoyment. It was a pattern that Appius relished in recreating.

He reached out to pat Bill's cheek affectionately. "We will deal with any punishments later. For now, reign in your passions. Otherwise, I may rethink your readiness to train Miss Stackhouse."

Bill nodded somberly. "Yes, Master. I will stay in control."

The elder smiled slightly before turning his attention back to Andre. "After the telepath and Eric have separated due to Miss Pelt's antics, your people will be ready to signal our entrance?"

"Yes, Ocella," Andre responded. "But beware as you go after Sookie."

"Why?" Appius asked with a chuckle. "Based upon your descriptions, her personal guards do not seem to be much of a challenge."

"Thalia is formidable," Andre said, his tone almost apologetic.

Appius scoffed. "Just guarantee that the tunnel system will be open to us. The vampiress you speak of will be nothing to me, and—once she is eliminated—the others will fall quickly."

"I don't want the queen's people harmed," Andre said pensively.

"So we cannot expect them _all_ to be cooperative?" Appius asked—clearly a little perturbed.

"The ones I will have at the northeast gate will—as I have told you—let, first, Debbie and, then, your group onto the estate without any problems, but after that, I cannot risk telling others, lest my maker or the telepath learns of the plan."

"It would be easy enough to use confounding spells on your guards, should they get in our way," Hallow suggested.

"How will you differentiate our people from Eric's?" Andre asked.

"Email pictures of your people—if you truly want to preserve them," Mark Stonebrook proposed. "You must have plenty of images from your surveillance systems."

Andre nodded. "I can do that."

"Good. So then it is all settled. A V-crazed Debbie will cause a stir, we will kill the guards Eric has arranged for his pet, and we will secure Miss Stackhouse," Appius said with finality.

Andre nodded in deference to the elder.

"And, then, Eric will feel his _bonded's_ distress," the elder vampire emphasized with a chuckle.

"Bonded?" Andre asked, even as Bill was visibly shaking, though he fought to hold back his reaction so that he did not incur his "master's" wrath again—at least, not in public.

Appius nodded even as he studied William closely. He had previously told his young protégé of the bond he was almost certain had been formed between Eric and his telepathic pet. That knowledge had precipitated Appius's first punishment of William weeks before. Such punishments had added a nice diversion on top of the energizing experience they'd had while in their private paradise in the Philippines.

The elder was pleased to see that William now knew better that to let out an outburst, though he'd still not achieved perfect control over his emotions.

That would take time—and a lot more training.

Andre's brow creased. "But how will Bill bond with her—if she's already bonded. You don't intend to kill Eric—do you?"  
Appius rolled his eyes at Andre and looked at Hallow. "I don't suppose you could do anything about a bond—could you?" he asked with a smirk. "I have heard that there are magical remedies to such things—remedies which skilled witches can perform. You are that skilled—yes?" he finished, his voice clearly issuing Hallow a challenge.

"Of course! I know the magic," the witch returned boastfully. "But the spell is a painful one for the bonded pair."

Appius grinned. "All the better! Pain will help Eric to learn the lesson that such matters should _always_ be discussed with one's master—one's _better_ —before the pursuit of them. And, of course, Miss Stackhouse must begin to understand that there will be consequences for going against the wishes of the vampire who first claimed her," he added, looking at Bill.

"We have not yet talked about what I am getting out of all of this," Hallow inserted. "After all, Debbie is _my_ creature. And I have offered _my_ help in capturing Sookie Stackhouse. In addition, _I_ am now tasked with protecting the queen's people in all of this. And then breaking a blood bond."

Appius smiled at her sinisterly. "I was told that you had a particular kind of magical spell you wished to," he paused, "try out on my elder child?"

Hallow nodded hungrily.

The ancient smirked. "I have decided to help young William here to restore the estate of his human forebears. I do so enjoy Antebellum architecture. Thus, we will stay in Louisiana for a while. While I am here, I will, of course, want to share some," he paused, "quality time with Eric in order to enjoy his company after so long apart. And, dear Alexei will want to meet his brother."

Appius's younger child scoffed, but said nothing. He was absorbed in a handheld video game device that Mark Stonebrook had offered the young vampire earlier—when the petulant youth seemed ready to throw a tantrum due to his boredom.

Appius continued. "That being said, there will be no need for me to spend more than a week or so in Eric's direct company." He leaned forward in his seat to look closely at Hallow. "After I am finished with him, I am inclined to allow you to use your spell on him with the caveat that I can," he paused, " _supervise_ to a certain extent and enjoy the show. William said that it was a love spell. Tell me—what will it accomplish?"

Hallow glanced at Bill and then looked back at Appius. "I have been working on the spell since early January—making many improvements upon the first version of it. Now there are two distinct potions that could be utilized."

"Describe them," Appius said with curiosity, even as he sat back in his chair.

"Excuse me," Andre interrupted.

"What?!" Appius asked sharply, turning a deadly gaze onto the queen's child.

"I apologize, Sir," Andre said, his face suddenly a picture of fear. "It is just that I must go if I am to be back at the palace when required by the queen. I don't want to raise any suspicions."

"I am done with you for now," Appius returned in an indifferent tone and with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Inform us of any changes to the plan. Otherwise, we will see you tomorrow—after midnight."  
The queen's child quickly nodded and then left.

Appius rolled his eyes before turning them back to Hallow. "You were about to say—before we were so rudely interrupted?" he pushed.

Hallow nodded. "Yes. Um—the spell that I initially created to use on," she paused, "your child is called the heart's desire spell."

"Yes," Appius smiled. "William mentioned this one, though he did not have all of the details. 'Heart's desire'—an intriguing name! I would very much like to know all about it."

"It is designed to influence the taker to do anything for his or her heart's desire—to overcome any obstacle, even to the point of sacrificing his or her life," Hallow explained. "Basically speaking, everything would be forgotten by the person upon whom the spell was used—except for the one thing desired above all."

"Thus, young William's desire that it would be given to his human," Appius commented, glancing at the younger vampire—keeping close tabs on him.

Hallow nodded. "Yes. Bill believes Sookie Stackhouse desires him more than anything—that she is with Eric only because he has coerced her and/or used his blood to influence her."

"You sound skeptical that this is the case. Do you believe that the telepath prefers my child—over William? That _Eric_ —not William—is her heart's desire?" Appius questioned tauntingly, still with an eye on Bill.

Hallow looked pensively at Bill, even as her brother tensed, ready to protect her if need be.

"I cannot see how a woman would prefer Bill to Eric," she finally proclaimed.

As Bill's fangs clicked into place, Appius roared with laughter. "What an amusing witch you have turned out to be—doubly surprising since you are also Were, and the combination would hardly lend itself to producing amusement!" He glanced at Bill, pleased that the young vampire had not moved against the witch for what he took—rightly—as an insult.

Of course, Appius knew that the witch's words were simple honestly. Except in the aspect of unquestioned obedience to his master, William was Eric's inferior in every way.

"Yet you intended to use the spell on Miss Stackhouse anyway—for William?" Appius asked.

Hallow nodded. "Yes. I thought that it might work; in fact, I was hopeful for Bill."

"See?" Appius said, looking at William. "The witch was rooting for you all along."

Bill still didn't look any less pissed off.

"Sookie becoming obsessed with Bill would have made it easier for me to get Eric under my control," she explained, still pensive about Appius's reaction to her threat against his elder child.

"And if Sookie did not cooperate? If her heart's desire was not young William here?" Appius asked—again, somewhat tauntingly.

Hallow shrugged. "I thought that the situation might create confusion—no matter the outcome, and I . . . ." She stopped short of completing her thought.

"And you?" Appius pushed.

"And I thought it would be amusing to see Bill flounder when— _if_ —Sookie didn't prefer him. I knew that getting Bill's blood from him—or otherwise manipulating him—would be much easier that way."

Bill lunged at the witch; however, Mark Stonebrook had already chanted into place a protective barrier around himself and his sister.

Bill growled and threw himself against the barrier twice more than he should have needed to in order to test its soundness. Meanwhile, Alexei cackled in amusement, even as he continued to play his game.

"Sit!" Appius yelled out, after giving his young protégé a bit more rope. The elder did so enjoy doling out punishments.

Immediately Bill sat where he'd been before, though he was still panting, and his fangs had yet to retract.

"Oh, William!" Appius sighed theatrically, getting up in order to go over to Bill and stroke his cheek for a moment. "Still so young and undisciplined. Still _so_ driven by your emotions."

Bill looked down. "I am sorry, Master."

The elder smiled as he lifted up Bill's chin. "Do not worry. I have a feeling that training Miss Stackhouse as I instruct will offer opportunities for your _own_ continued training as well. However, if you persist in demonstrating this kind of lack of control, you know what must be done—correct?"

" _You'll_ turn her," Bill said softly.

"I'll drain her and give her my blood," Appius corrected. "I'll kill her humanity regardless, but whether or not the Fates decide she is worthy of being a vampire will not be a matter I have a great deal of preference on. So be good, William," he finished with a patronizing warning.

Bill nodded dejectedly as Appius patted his hand and then turned his attention back onto the witches.

The elder vampire smiled at Hallow, who was still within the confines of her brother's protective spell. "I had hoped that I would have an opportunity to see you showcase a bit of your magic this evening—so that I could better understand my assets for tomorrow's events," he remarked casually.

Hallow did not look overly concerned, though Mark was still extremely tense.

"May I?" Appius asked as he approached the magical barrier.

"Of course," Hallow said politely.

Slowly, Appius reached out his fingers to test the barrier. His hand vibrated as it came into contract with the potent spell.

"Impressive," he commented. "And unpleasant to the touch."

"A specialty of my brother," Hallow informed.

The vampire looked at Mark Stonebrook with a mixture of surprise and delight.

"A clear talent, given the fact that your level of strength is not as high as your sister's," he remarked as he backed away from the barrier.

"My brother is well-practiced," Hallow said with some pride.

Appius nodded at the male Were-witch. "And clearly protective of you. That is good. Family is important."

The elder vampire looked back at Bill before retaking his seat. "Of course, your heart's desire spell need no longer be wasted on William's behalf. It will not be a spell that compels Miss Stackhouse to return to her rightful place with her first vampire master. And it will not be a spell that engenders her devotion for him again. No—it will _not_ be that easy for her. For either of them," he ended in a cold tone that promised that horrors were in store for Bill, as well as for Sookie.

"Do you not agree that you must learn temperance the hard way? And that your human must as well?" Appius addressed Bill.

"Yes," the vampire responded softly.

"Your outburst has vexed me," Appius sighed. "And I wish to be away from you for a while."

"I am sorry, Master. Please—don't send me from your side," Bill responded, looking downward, his face reflecting intense disappointment in himself.

"You must know that I was testing you here tonight," the elder vampire said.

"You failed," Alexei grinned.

Appius looked sharply at his younger child before returning his gaze to Bill. "You will drive Alexei back to the safehouse. I will follow soon."

"Can we not stay with you, Papa?" Alexei asked, his tone having changed to one of a needy child.

"William will look after you," Appius assured. "And you have your game to get back to—correct?"

"This one is okay," Alexei said, holding up the handheld device. "I want to keep playing it."

"Keep it," Mark Stonebrook said flatly.

"A generous gift," Appius said with a slight nod to the male Were-witch. "Alexei, you may continue to play your new game in the car. And—on the way home—William will find you some humans to play with." He turned to Bill. "That will not be a problem—will it?"

"No," Bill responded.

"Good. We will all want our energy to be at its zenith for tomorrow, and the two humans that Andre sent right after sundown did not sate us."

"Do we have to let these new ones live, too?" Alexei asked with a scowl. He was still displeased that Andre had sent donors with the express request that they not be killed.

Appius looked at Bill inquisitively.

"I know New Orleans well, Master," he said. "I will be able to find some humans that will not be missed."

"Excellent. Then, take Alexei and secure our meal. I have a couple of things to finish up with the witches, and then I will join you."

Bill looked a bit reluctant to go, but still rose and held out a hand for Alexei.

"Come, Brother," he entreated.

Grudgingly, Alexei rose and went with Bill.

"I should not be but an hour or so behind you," Appius said as the two were leaving the room. Once they were gone, he turned his attention back to the Were-witches. "Now for the fun part of the evening," he said with a fangy smile.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi all! It seems like I'm always apologizing for being late with a chapter. The amazing Kleannhouse had this one sent back to me in plenty of time, and I'd intended to get it to you on Sunday, but migraines have been kicking my butt for a couple of days. Anyway, the good news is that I now have chapters enough drafted that I think we'll have uninterrupted chapters each week for the next eight weeks (at least). I'm still not finished drafting the entire story yet, but I'm through Chapter 31 with drafting (and those are already back from Kleannhouse, so they need only final touches), and I'm still thinking 40 chapters max—so getting closer.**

 **Again, sorry for the delay. I hope you have enjoyed this return to Appius. Our opposing forces are most certainly lining up!**

 **All the best,**

 **Kat**


	25. Ch 24: I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here

**Chapter 24: I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here**

Mark Stonebrook reinforced his protective barrier as Appius Livius Ocella studied him and his sister, Hallow.

For his part, the elder vampire seemed to be amused at Mark's effort and reached out to test the magical blockade again. This time, he pushed a little, seeming to "bend" the barrier inward, though he looked a bit uncomfortable doing so. Clearly satisfied with his experimentation, Appius scrutinized his hand for a moment, watching the slight burns that had been created heal.

He chuckled and retracted his fangs. "This really is an impressive piece of magic—a marvelous defense. But I have always preferred _offense_ when I fight." He sat back down into his chair, stretching out comfortably as if he were chatting with friends.

The two witches studied him pensively.

"The barrier is no longer needed. I assure you," he promised.

"Take it down," Hallow instructed softly.

Though he was still wary, Mark obeyed his sister's directive.

Appius nodded in satisfaction as the magical barrier collapsed. "Ah—that's better. Now, we can speak with civility. I must apologize for young William. You see—he has only recently taken his place by my side and has yet to learn mastery over his emotions. Do you not think that emotional control is essential—for vampires, I mean?" he asked with a smile.

Mark Stonebrook looked at the ancient vampire with trepidation, even as his sister was looking at him with a mixture of pure bloodlust and fascination. The brother found himself exponentially worried in that moment—worried that, at any moment, Appius might lose his amusement of the witches and kill them; worried that his sister would follow Appius into any insane rabbit hole he fancied. Mark wondered if either he or his sister would get out of their acquaintance with Appius Livius Ocella alive. Yet he knew there would be no way to talk his sister out of working with the clearly twisted vampire.

For Hallow clearly admired his twistedness.

And she shared it.

"You would know better when it comes to vampires . . . ." Hallow's voice trailed off.

"You—and even your barrier-wielding brother—may call me Ocella," the vampire grinned. "I am quite curious about something—related to your little love spell."

"What is it?" Hallow asked.

"You said it was designed to create a single-minded obsession for one's heart's desire. But how would you have compelled my child to believe that he desired _you_?" Appius asked curiously.

Hallow glanced at her brother and then back at the vampire. "The basic spell would have compelled Eric to immediately seek out his heart's desire. However, I adapted the spell by infusing it with two additional elements."

"Tell me about them?" Appius probed.

"First, most of his memories would have been erased. Second, I inserted a beacon spell."

"A beacon spell?"

Hallow nodded. "Yes. Eric would have come directly to _me_ , and once in my presence, I could have used yet another spell to insert within him the belief that _I_ was the one he desired above all. He would have done anything for me. _Anything_ ," she emphasized.

"Intriguing," Appius said, sitting forward. "And what did you plan to do with him—once he was your puppet?"

Hallow looked momentarily pensive.

"Do not fear any retribution on my part for plans you have not yet had the opportunity to carry out against my child. Surely you must know by now that I will not allow you to do anything I do not wish to Eric. I am merely curious about your original plans for him. Your endgame—as it were."

Hallow took a deep breath. "I desire him."

"He _is_ desirable," Appius stated. "You intended to use his body and his blood however you wished?"

"Yes," the witch nodded.

"But you also wished to have his," Appius paused, "affection?"

Hallow looked almost rabid in that moment. "Yes, but _more_. I wanted _power_ over such a being!"

"How would you have left him?" Appius asked. "Still undead? Or would you have ultimately drained him."

"I don't know," Hallow admitted, her voice barely audible as she gazed at Appius with apprehension.

The ancient nodded. "I believe that I understand you, witch. And I like what I see in you. You are powerful, yet crave more power. You seek to assert your control over the most desirable being you have encountered. That is why you admire my Eric so much."

"Yes."

"Tell me—how did you evolve your spell. You said earlier that you have two versions—that you have been working on the original since January to improve it."

Hallow nodded, her eyes showing excitement and pride. "I strengthened the spell so that the memory did _not_ have to be taken away in order for me to gain Eric's," she paused, "love."

"How? _No_ spell can create love where it does not exist."

"I found a way to," she paused, " _compel_ love—similar to how a maker can compel a child to do whatever he or she wants."

Appius smiled almost maniacally. "Just how similar is your spell—to a maker's command?"

Hallow huffed a bit—like a petulant child might if she couldn't get _exactly_ her way. "I still haven't been able to create love where it doesn't exist. But—my spell will compel the _actions_ related to love, if not the feeling of it."

Appius cackled as if he were the witch. "Are you saying that you can make Eric act as though he loves you, though he won't feel the emotion of it?"

"He'll feel obsession," Hallow clarified.

"But nothing sincere," the vampire commented. "It would always feel a little," he paused, " _wrong_ to him. And he might struggle against it, but to no avail?"

"Yes."

Appius sat back in his chair, his eyes glittering with possibility. The ancient continued to lament that his own maker had commanded him to let go any child he made after 200 years; thus, he'd not had ample time to fully break his first child—to fully _perfect_ him. Since those initial 200 years had ended, he'd only enjoyed toying with his elder child directly a few times, and he could never withstand being close to him for long periods of time. Moreover, every command he'd given to his child—after his first 200 marvelous years with him—had hurt.

And Appius didn't like to hurt. Pain was a weakness.

But the witch's scheme offered him so many wonderful possibilities!

"You asked earlier what you get out of all of this," he reminded.

Hallow nodded.

"How about my child as a plaything? Let us say for a year?" Appius asked. "You must allow him freedom enough to continue functioning as Sheriff of Area 5—to a small extent—despite his obsession with you. But—beyond that—he would be all yours."

"And after the year?" Hallow returned.

"I must insist that you let him go free. By then, his Sookie will be trained adequately, and I will ensure that she is turned three nights before you release Eric," Appius mused.

"Do you hate him? Your child?" Hallow asked somewhat brazenly.

Mark tensed—at the ready with another protection spell.

"No! No, my dear woman! I love him," Appius said, his voice cracking a bit. "And love is not an emotion I can abide."

Hallow nodded a little. "And I can do _anything_ with him—for a year?"

Appius considered for a moment. "More-less—yes. As I said earlier, I wish to have him in my power for a week—to punish him and to remind him that no matter how free he believes himself to be from me, he exists at my pleasure—as he has for a thousand years. As he will for thousands more."

The elder was silent for a moment. "After I am done with him, you can begin your fun—with three caveats."

"One?" Hallow asked.

"Though I do not require nightly reports, I would like for you to catalogue Eric's time with you—so that I can enjoy experiencing it at my leisure. A video would suffice—especially, of the more depraved things you ask of him. And," he paused and closed his eyes, "of particular interest to me would be any signs that Eric is _suffering_ underneath your spell. Moreover—if you could push him to a level of suffering at times—I would be profoundly grateful."

"How grateful?" the witch asked.

"Two," Appius said, ignoring the witch's question for the moment, "I would like to have the opportunity to have input in your actions regarding my child—from time to time."

"And three?" the witch asked.

"You cannot end him. If such an occurrence were to happen, I would end you in the most painful manner I could devise," the vampire warned.

"What if it were accidental?" Mark Stonebrook asked, concern etched upon his angular face.

Hallow hissed at her brother.

Appius shared a look with the male Were-witch. "You'd best make sure that your sister has no accidents with my child," he said in a deadly tone.

His jaw locked with tension, Mark nodded.

"I will make no mistakes!" the witch yelled out peevishly, glaring at her protective older sibling.

"Then I am comforted," Appius smiled, the tension having left his body. "So—are my three conditions agreeable?"

"Yes," Hallow responded immediately.

"And after a year?" Appius asked.

"I will move on, leaving Eric intact—though likely much poorer," the witch stated.

"You are limited to a total of ten million of his assets. I would hate it if he couldn't pay me a reasonable tribute," Appius countered. "Of course, you can sell his blood for whatever price you can get for it." He chuckled a little. "You know—I'm generally a stickler for the purity of vampire blood, and I have always been careful not to give my own away too freely. So—under any other circumstances—I would torture you for taking my child's blood against his will." At these words, he looked at both Were-witches with an intensity that caused them to lean back a bit.

"However, my child has given his blood to the telepath. He has sullied himself by creating a bond which seems to be based upon," he paused and smirked at Hallow, " _sincere_ affection. And—because he has cheapened himself in this way—I find that I am anxiously looking forward to your whoring out his blood to whomever can pay the price." He smiled sickly. "The gods know that I once did the same with his body." He leaned forward. "Tell me—will you share his body with others?"

Hallow shook her head. "No. I want his body for myself."

"Pity," the vampire sighed. "Oh well. Perhaps, you will change your mind and, at the very least, pass him around to your coven members. From experience, I can tell you that there are those who would pay a great deal for the use of him."

Appius seemed to be moving to rise, but then stopped. "Oh, yes! The _other_ matter I wished to speak with you about!"

"Does this have to do with the vampire in the crate?" Mark asked perceptively.

"Astute. Cautious. And quick at producing strong barriers," Appius commented, looking at the male witch with a lascivious smile. "I think I like you."

"That's—uh—good," Mark stuttered, though he was clearly uncomfortable.

"As it happens, the woman in the crate is what I wished to speak with you about. Now that William no longer has use of your original spell for his human, I would like for you to use it upon my guest."

"Who is in the crate?" Mark asked.

"Eric's child."

"Pamela Ravenscroft?!" Hallow exclaimed.

"No. He made another child—one that I thought was long dead. I think that it would be amusing if she aided in our little plan tomorrow night. It's not that I don't think your Debbie Pelt will be an," he paused, "interesting distraction for everyone. It's just that I think that the appearance of Karin would create a wonderful dilemma for my child, as well as ensure that he would be completely useless when it came to harming anyone in our group."

"How?" Hallow asked with curiosity.

"Karin loves her maker," Appius explained. "She is _in love_ with him. Indeed, it is abundantly clear to me—after only knowing her for a little while—that she desires to please him above _everything_. That she _covets_ him," he added. "However, her loyalty and her affection for him also prevent her from acting upon her stronger and more violent inclinations toward him." The elder smiled a little. "I suppose it is ironic that her feelings toward Eric are of the type which I'd always wished that he would grant to me, but alas." He shrugged. "Eric has endeavored to hide the existence of his elder child from me for many, many years—even going so far as to sever all control he had over her so that I would believe that Karin was dead."

"That is extreme," Mark said somewhat cautiously.

"And such an extreme measure must be answered with something even more extreme," Appius said with a definitive nod. "My child requires punishment for his deception—for hiding his first child from me. Thus—the spell."

"What do you intend?" Hallow asked.

"If I understand correctly, your spell will remove Karin's memory, but morph her love for her heart's desire into pure obsession. With her memories gone, she will be," he paused, "more malleable to influence—correct?"

"Yes," the witch confirmed.

"As a bonus, there would be no need to influence her to believe that it is Eric that she desires; conveniently, that is already the case! She would be easily convinced to seek out Eric—damned the consequences! And you and I could be her benevolent guides."

"What would we guide her to do?" Hallow asked wryly.

"To eliminate the one standing in her way," Appius informed.

"Wait! You want her to kill the telepath, Sookie Stackhouse?!" Mark asked, his confusion clear.

Appius shrugged. "Not really, though I won't be heartbroken if she is collateral damage. No—what I believe will happen is that Karin will get just close enough to threaten her so that Eric will be forced to choose between them."

"You expect he'll kill his own child?" Hallow asked incredulously.

" _Very_ likely," Appius relayed. "What he feels for the woman he has bonded with is," he paused, "profound. I do believe that he _will_ kill Karin to protect her, though his gesture will ultimately mean little, for he will not be able to protect his beloved from me. Still—it will be poetic justice. He once did everything he could possibly do to make me believe that Karin was dead in order to protect her from me. Now—to protect Miss Stackhouse—he will be the one who truly ends Karin. And I will be the one pulling all the strings."

"Diabolical!" Hallow chuckled.

"Yes. It is rather—isn't it?" Appius agreed as he stood up. He looked at Mark and then Hallow. "Andre—little pissant that he is—is correct that it would be ill-advised to harm the queen or her people. However, all that you can do to stop them from interfering with the amusing production I have in my head would be greatly appreciated."

Both siblings nodded.

"Excellent!" Appius said, clapping his hands. "Feel free to take a vial or two of blood from Karin tonight, but do so with care. She is quite powerful and cunning for her age." He looked at Mark. "Use one of your barriers."

The male Were-witch nodded.

"I shall return here at around 10:30 p.m. tomorrow; wait to use the spell on Karin until I am here. I wish to enjoy the entirety of the show!"

"Okay," Hallow agreed.

"Good. One more thing. Best not to let Andre or William know how we intend to use Karin. After all, Sookie very well might be killed—if Eric's choice is different from the one that I expect. I wouldn't want either of them to interfere with my plans for Karin."

"We'll keep this part of the plan to ourselves," Mark assured.

"My gratitude," Appius said, with the slightest nod of his head. "I look forward to our year working together." He moved toward the door, but then stopped and turned around as if he was remembering something.

"You asked me earlier _how_ _grateful_ I would be to you—if all goes well," the ancient reminded.

"Yes," Hallow replied breathlessly.

"At the end of our year, I will give you a vial of my blood if I am pleased with you. I am sure that my child's will already increase your power substantially," Appius commented.

"But yours would do so much _more_ ," Hallow panted.

"So you understand the honor of my offer."

"Yes!" the witch exclaimed.

"Good." His expression turned to cold stone within a second. "Until I offer it, however, you will do _nothing_ to cross me. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Hallow and Mark answered simultaneously.

"Excellent!" Appius said before turning away again. This time he zipped out of the room and then the house.

Hallow looked at her brother with awe in her eyes. "Do you know what his blood will do for us?! Not to mention Eric's blood?"

Mark nodded. "You're sure you want to help Ocella?" he asked cautiously. "It sounds like he wants to be in control. And—if there are accidents with Northman . . . ," he began.

"I'm sure!" Hallow hissed. "And do not doubt me, or I'll . . . ." She stopped midsentence, her blood boiling with anger.

Mark held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Please, Marn. You know I don't doubt you. I just want for you to be safe."

"Then working with the most powerful vampire we've ever met seems like the best way to stay that way!" Hallow yelled.

"You're right," Mark placated. "And I'm with you—no matter what. Always."

A smile slowly formed onto Hallow's lips as she moved into her brother's embrace. "I want to share all of this power with you, Mark. But you must not doubt me!"

"I don't," he reiterated, trying to convince himself as much as her. "It will all work out the way you wish. I'll make sure of that," he promised.

"I know," she giggled, her earlier rage evaporated. "Anyway, we have a lovely vampire on tap for tonight! Let's take enough for Debbie, too. We'll want her high out of her mind tomorrow night."

Mark smiled down at his sister and nodded, hiding his concern—though he still felt it keenly.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all! I hope your week has gone well. So—now you know how Appius intends to use Karin! What do you think—did I make him evil enough? I was looking to create someone as obsessed with Eric as he wanted Eric to be obsessed with him. Indeed, this Appius is probably heavily influenced by the Netflix show** _ **Mindhunter**_ **, which I'd been watching around the time I drafted this. I'll suggest that show only for those that like crime thrillers because it is freaky sometimes! Anyway, this is my attempt to make an Appius who is truly frightening. I hope it's working.**

 **Next up—after a bit more with Appius/Bill/Alexei, I promise some Eric. We need him about now!**

 **Please leave a comment if you have the time and inclination.**

 **Have a wonderful week!**

 **Kat**


	26. Chapter 25: From a Jack to a King

**Chapter 25: From a Jack to a King**

 **TWENTY MINUTES AFTER THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER**

"Must I wait to eat?" Alexei pouted—as he took in the four humans Bill had secured for their night's second meal.

Bill looked at the humans as well, though his goal was not to assess them for his meal or to covet them as Alexei was doing. No—he was inventorying them, trying to determine whether his master would be pleased by the buffet he'd secured for the rest of the night. There were three men and one woman. He'd gotten some variety of blood types (an A-positive, an O-negative, and two O-positives); it wasn't an ideal sampling, but at least the group included Alexei's favorite type, A-positive.

Unfortunately, securing humans that could be drained without their being missed on such short notice had necessitated Bill's getting people addled by drug habits. He'd lucked out, finding all four of the humans in a single alleyway where they were smoking methamphetamines. All drugs left an aftertaste in humans; however, meth was the least offensive. Cocaine and crack made human blood seemingly lose its heartiness, while something like heroine turned blood almost sour. And after humans took ecstasy, they were practically tasteless for at least a week!

Any pollution of the blood was a negative—to be sure. However, four "meth-heads" could disappear without too many questions being asked. And—even if there was an investigation—there would be no evidence to tie their disappearance to vampires.

"Go ahead and choose one," Bill said of the four heavily glamoured meals.

Alexei's fangs came down immediately, and he rushed to the humans, his nose flaring as he took in their scents.

Bill watched as Alexei circled the foursome, hissing and snarling. Of course, Bill had glamoured the four to be docile. He'd also glamoured them to discard their foul clothing into a heavy-duty trash bag before bathing, so all were nude and clean. Two of the men were young and could have been attractive—had it not been for their drug usage. The third male was older and less attractive, but the drug had not yet taken away all of the plumpness he must have carried before his habit overtook him. The female was on the scrawny side; she was blonde with blue eyes, and—had she been healthier—she would have had nice curves, given her bone structure.

She made Bill think of Sookie.

Alexei chose the woman—the A-positive.

"Try not to kill it until Appius returns," Bill guided gently.

Alexei turned and hissed at his current "baby sitter."

Bill put up his hands in appeasement. "Brother, I just ask you to wait because you know that our Master enjoys watching you kill," he spoke softly.

Alexei was immediately placated. "Thank you, William," he smiled. "You are right that Father would be disappointed if I killed without him here. Will you eat with me?"

"No," Bill said, bowing his head a little. "I displeased Appius, so I will wait until he gives me permission to feed."

The younger vampire nodded solemnly. "Father was displeased with you. But do not worry. He will let you eat soon," he said, his voice taking on as much sympathy as he was capable of producing—which was not much.

Bill turned away from the sight of Alexei biting the Sookie-ish woman and went to the home's foyer, chastising himself for his tendency to think about Sookie to distraction.

Appius had been endeavoring to guide him toward the necessary cleansing of his emotions for the telepath. And Bill knew that he was doing better in viewing Sookie as she ought to be viewed: a bag of blood with a talent and, perhaps, the potential to be a noteworthy vampire. But his efforts still were not adequate; his earlier outbursts had taught him that.

He stripped his body of clothing and then dropped down to his knees before the front door, knowing that Appius would enter that way. He concentrated for a moment on the distinctive sounds of Alexei feeding and fucking his choice of donor and envied his "brother's" appetites for a moment. Alexei, though he had been turned too far gone to be a vampire of great intellect and prudence, was—according to Appius—the perfect vampire in many ways.

He was insatiable for blood, and he had been gifted with a lack of conscience that rivaled even his maker's—when it came to humans. Of course, Bill recognized that Alexei could never be on his own, for his lack of conscience extended to even vampires much older than himself. Simply put, if Alexei was on his own, it would not take long for a vampire monarch to end him because Alexei would most certainly either kill in a way that would be difficult to cover up or insult the wrong vampire.

Probably both.

Bill acknowledged that Appius spoiled his child, but he envied his "brother" that, too. Lorena had always found reasons to _withhold_ things from Bill, no matter how obedient he attempted to be. By contrast, Appius might punish Bill, but his punishments were _never_ about withholding.

They were about _giving_ Bill exactly what he needed.

"I am _William_ ," the vampire emphasized to himself as he tried to indoctrinate even his inner dialogue to view himself as Appius wished him to be.

"I am William," he repeated—this time more loudly and confidently.

He closed his eyes and visualized the vampire that Appius had promised to make him.

He smiled a little as he foresaw the power he would have after he morphed into the kind of vampire the gods had intended. He would be the dominator of his territory and of those around him—save for one individual: his Master. With Appius by his side, vampires such as Eric Northman would have no dominion over him. He would take from humans at will, making them his meals, his entertainment, or his pets. A flash of Sookie entered his mind. He shook his head vehemently. There would be _no_ more possibility of becoming too ensnared by his emotions for any human, even a special one like her! Under Appius's tutelage, he would command his feelings! And, in turn, he would command any human he wished!

Yes. He would begin with Sookie. And once she understood her place in comparison to him—just as William understood his place in relationship to Appius—she would subjugate herself as he was now doing.

For the pleasure of her better—her _Master_.

He imagined her assuming a position similar to the one that he now occupied. He could foresee a scenario when she would misbehave. He would give her some time to contemplate her error, just as Appius had allowed him time to understand the ways in which he had been a disappointment during the meeting with Hallow, for William was certain that was the reason why his Master had lingered to speak privately with the witches.

And William had come to understand that he _needed_ punishment—extreme punishment—for his lack of decorum in front of lesser beings such as witches.

Yes. Like him, Sookie would not always demonstrate perfect behavior, but she would learn to self-reflect and to acknowledge her defects. He imagined himself returning to her after he'd graciously allowed her such reflection time. He licked his lips as he contemplated her waiting for him—nude and on her knees in anticipation.

Would he reward her show of supplication? Would he punish her in spite of it? Would she learn to get such satisfaction from her punishments as William had learned to get from his?

William wondered what Appius would do to him even as he heard what had to be the elder vampire landing outside. He felt himself getting hard at all of the possibilities.

"What a lovely sight," Appius commented coolly as he entered the home.

"Master," William greeted, his head lowered.

In the next moment, the younger vampire felt himself being slammed into the marble floor, Appius's knee pressing into his back. There was a crack as bones in his spine gave way under the pressure. William remained perfectly still as Appius bent his head down to whisper into his ear.

"You looked beautiful on your knees before me. However, you look even more beautiful now that you are prostrate on the floor. You will remember this?"

"Yes. Thank you, Master," William managed to say, despite being in a lot of pain.

"What have you learned tonight?" Appius asked.

"I have yet to master my emotions where the telepath is concerned. I spoke her name, despite your guidance that I should think of her only as an object to be used," William responded.

"You embarrassed me in front of the witches. You made me seem to lack control over one of my own—the child I have _chosen_ to rear. The _only_ vampire I have ever taken under my wing in such a way." He snarled. "Why should I not end you now, William? Why should I bother continuing to train you when you are just going to continue old habits? To disappoint me?"

"Please, Master. Do not abandon me! Correct me!" William begged.

"Oh, I will!" Appius said ominously.

William heard a loud zipping sound, and he licked his lips—anticipating what was to come.

Anticipating becoming the perfect child to Appius—perfect in a way that Eric had never achieved.

So perfect that he would eclipse Eric in Appius's mind.

So perfect that Eric could be eliminated—purged from the world _finally_. He would laugh over his ashy remains.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 12 • 11:40 p.m.**

Though to an outside observer, Eric would have looked completely relaxed, he was anything but. And his anxiety was coming from one place: his bond with Sookie.

From his side of the bond, he sent strength and pride, even as she maintained a perfectly neutral expression that matched his own. She was on the other side of the room from him—not a separation that he enjoyed.

Moreover, she did not smell like him, nor did he smell like her. The witch's potions had seen to that. He did not enjoy that lack of connection either!

But concealing his bond and connection with Sookie was tactical, given the situation. After all, to most of the others in the room, Sookie—or Susanna Saunders—was a fully human, unbonded member of the queen's staff: the Queen's Liaison.

Still, the Viking was anxious to have Sookie by his side again—to touch her. His fingers twitched for her, as did his cock. She gave him the slightest of glances and a smirk, obviously feeling his sudden burst of lust for her, despite her overarching anxiety about the situation.

Eric concentrated on being patient—not only when it came to holding his mate in his arms, but also when it came to learning what his bonded was "reading" from the minds of those around her.

Meanwhile, he had been following the marriage negotiations, which had been happening out loud and which had—thus far—consisted of innocuous haggling over asset allocations and the status of trade treaties the two monarchs already had with other states and countries.

In other words, it had been a boring meeting.

Still, it seemed as though Sophie-Anne and Peter Threadgill were quite pleased with each other on a personal level. Of course, Eric knew that Sophie-Anne preferred women when it came to sex, but she had no problems flirting with men, and Peter was the target of her many charms.

And he was clearly charmed.

Rough around the edges and quite young for a king, Peter Threadgill wasn't without charms of his own. Between the more business-related moments of the negotiations, Peter would regale Sophie-Anne with tales of his role during the Mexican-American War, as well as the time he spent in Asia as a young vampire. There, he'd "learned the ropes" from his maker and had worked as an infamous enforcer for a few decades. He told her one particularly interesting story, which had led to a Japanese poet writing about his Bowie knife. Though not much older than Bill Compton and a bit younger than Pam, Eric knew that Peter was stronger and more ruthless than both. It was something that the Viking could sense.

One thing was certain; by the minute, Eric was doubting more and more the notion that Peter was planning to do anything against Sophie-Anne. On the contrary, the Viking would bet a good deal of his fortune that the Arkansas king was sincere in his desire to align kingdoms with her. Despite Arkansas being the poorer state—in both monetary and vampire assets—Peter's portfolio showed that he was a good king.

Indeed, he was a monarch who believed strongly in investing in the promising vampires of his state. And his fortunes were on an upswing.

Eric admired this about the king. He was playing a long-term game, garnering favors and respect along the path he had put himself upon. Clearly, Threadgill recognized that the miserly collection of assets for oneself was a dishonorable—and unwise—way to rule. In fact, Peter reminded Eric a good deal of his human father—and himself.

Of course, there were differences between Eric and Peter—big differences. The chief among them was that Peter had chosen to become a king. On the other hand, Eric had never wanted to be a monarch—not because he wouldn't have been able to navigate the politics of alliances such as the fledgling one before him, but because he simply didn't want to.

So the question was: How could Eric's supposition that the Arkansas King's motives were on the up-and-up align with Sookie's obvious disquiet during the negotiations? Could it be that Eric was completely wrong about Peter—that the king was such an accomplished liar that the experienced warrior was missing his true motives?

In addition to keeping an eye on Peter during the meeting, Eric had also studied the vampires the king had brought with him. Of particular note—both in terms of power and position—were only two: Jade Flower and Jennifer Cater.

Jennifer Cater, according to everything Eric had learned about her over the years (and he'd learned a lot because he'd made a point of studying the kingdom that shared a border with Area 5), was an efficient vampiress. Peter had likely had her efficiency—as well as her ability for diplomacy—in mind when he appointed her to be third-in-command in his state. She was also the _de facto_ sheriff of Area 1 in Arkansas, though Peter himself held that title on paper.

In his dealings with her, Eric had always found her to be fair-minded. And it was Jennifer whom Peter would send whenever there were jurisdiction issues between Arkansas and Area 5. She was a solid deal-maker and understood the meaning of the word "compromise"—as well as the benefits of the practice.

As far as strength went, Jennifer was formidable, but not above average for a 350-year-old. Her king was her obvious better when it came to strength, despite his being younger.

On the other hand, Jade Flower was clearly deadlier than any other 600-year-old Eric had ever encountered. By reputation, she was cunning—the kind of individual whom a person wouldn't know carried a grudge until he or she was flayed under Jade's knife or impaled by her _yubi-bo_ , which Eric speculated was underneath her skirt just waiting for a victim.

Though he'd not had the opportunity to directly interact with Jade often, he knew better than to turn his back on her. However, by all accounts, she was an invaluable and loyal lieutenant to Threadgill, an enforcer not afraid to get her hands dirty for her king.

In another life, Eric would have admired her. In this one, he sensed that she was not to be trusted—that she had motives beyond her king's, even if one of those was not to supplant him.

Feeling another jolt of anxiety from his bonded, Eric knew that he would soon find out for sure if his speculations were anywhere near the target.

"I wish to take some time with my advisors to consider the newest addendum to the contract," Sophie-Anne said as the two monarchs ran out of questions for one another.

"Perhaps, you and I could have a _private_ meeting later—once we've both had time to discuss the details of the contract with our people," Peter returned.

Sophie-Anne's eyebrow rose almost to her hairline. "Oh? And what would you wish to discuss in private?"

"Nothing at all," Peter said with a smirk. "I'd just like to offer you a preview of the kind of attention I'll be givin' you once per year and," he paused and sat forward in his chair, "any other time you get an itch for a visit from the north."

Sophie-Anne giggled with delight. "Oh, Peter! Are you so certain of your prowess?" she flirted, her eyelashes batting.

The king chuckled. "A test drive, Majesty. You might enjoy the ride enough for it to be a factor in your decision."

"Or the vehicle might wreck due to a bloated reputation," she returned flatly, though there was a twinkle in her eyes.

"Only one way to know for sure," he grinned.

"I'm afraid my meetings might last all night," Sophie-Anne returned coyly.

"Ah—anticipation then," Peter responded. "Perhaps a rendezvous tomorrow evening—before the ball?"

"Well—we _are_ already scheduled to meet at 9:00 p.m. in order to make our final decision about whether to go ahead with our," she paused, "connection. I suppose a _private_ meeting before that—to make any necessary tweaks to the contract—would be prudent."

"What time should I attend to your tweaks, Your Highness?" he asked rakishly.

She giggled. "At 8:00 p.m., I will have a bit of time for," she paused, "final negotiating."

He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips. "I will count the moments until then."

"You'll be dead for most of that time," Sophie-Anne countered dryly.

He chuckled and rose to his feet before signaling to his people. "Until tomorrow night," he said as he exited the room, followed by his entourage.

Sookie glanced at Eric before looking at the queen.

"Majesty, might I ask for an audience?" Eric asked Sophie-Anne.

Sophie-Anne focused on Eric, even as Andre rolled his eyes behind her. "Come in half an hour. My private chamber has the strongest privacy wards," she said to her most trusted sheriff as she stood.

Eric nodded. "I will be there. Thank you, my queen."

Sophie-Anne nodded toward him and then left the room, flanked by Wybert and Sigebert. Andre and a somewhat nervous-looking, though well-behaved Hadley trailed behind.

The tiger, Quinn, huffed as soon as Sophie-Anne was gone. He flexed his muscles in an obvious attempt to get Sookie's attention. Eric wondered if the kitty ever flexed his brain.

"Now that _that's_ over, why don't we get something to eat, Babe?" Quinn asked.

"I'm not hungry, Babe," Thalia said in a flat tone. Though she was in the room to guard Sookie, she seemed to be just another of the queen's advisors.

"I wasn't asking you," Quinn said, his expression indicating surprise and a bit of disgust.

"Oh—I thought you were offering to feed me," Thalia said, her fangs elongating. "I have not had tiger blood in years."

"Charlie Sheen," coughed Maria-Star.

Quinn glared at the Were, but softened his expression as he turned his attention back to Sookie.

"Susanna," he said, "would you care to take a break from present company and get a late dinner with me?"

Sookie stood, even as Eric watched on in amusement.

"I'm afraid I already have a dinner date, Mr. Quinn," she said evenly before turning toward the exit of the room that was furthest away from Quinn. Maria-Star, who was on her heals, cackled.

Eric smirked as he stood. "I'll gladly have dinner off of you, Quinn," he purred suggestively.

"Mr. Northman," Sookie said brusquely as she turned around to face him.

"Miss Saunders?" the vampire responded, though it was difficult for him to ignore the look of horror on Quinn's face.

"You've gotten your idioms mixed up again. You should have said dinner _with_ him."

"There was _no_ error," Eric leered as he winked at Quinn and made a move toward him.

"Oh—well. My mistake then," Sookie said, biting back her smile as she left the room.

"My offer?" Eric asked the weretiger.

"Um—no thanks," Quinn said, even as he moved toward the door Sookie had used to exit. Eric zipped in front of him, ensuring he couldn't leave, even as Thalia slipped out of the room to join Sookie and Maria-Star.

Eric slowly dragged his fingers down Quinn's cheek, eliciting a growl from the weretiger.

"Don't do that!" Quinn yelled, stepping back from Eric.

"My apologies," Eric said with a little bow. "Perhaps, I misread your suggestive looks at me during the meeting?" he ogled.

"My what?" Quinn asked, clearly stunned. "I was not—uh—looking at—uh—you!" he stuttered insistently.

"My loss, I'm sure," Eric said with a sigh. "Well—if you change your mind, come see me in Area 5 sometime. Or—you could just follow me to my room right now?"

"I won't!" Quinn responded quickly.

"Change your mind? Or follow me for a quick fuck?" Eric asked with a tilt of his head.

"Neither one!" the weretiger growled.

Feeling that his bonded was well away from the conference room, Eric gave Quinn one more wink before exiting through the door that Sookie had. He had a strong feeling the tiger wouldn't follow that way.

* * *

 **FIVE MINUTES LATER**

"Our bond was tellin' me just how much fun you were havin' with Quinn after I left the room," Sookie giggled as Eric grinded his gracious plenty against her aching core; too bad they were clothed.

And, even worse, they didn't have time to get unclothed.

Sookie had waited for Eric in the only "dead zone" for surveillance in the tunnel leading from Sophie-Anne's residence to the guest house.

Maria-Star and Thalia had taken up places at either end of the tunnel to allow the couple a few moments of privacy. Thalia had absolutely "forbidden" Sookie from meeting with Eric back at the guest home; rightly, she worried that such a rendezvous would keep the couple from being on time to their meeting with the queen.

"Gods, you don't smell enough like me," Eric panted as he rubbed his nose along Sookie's jawbone. "I don't like this fucking spell that the witch has made up."

"Amelia's scent-covering spell will wear off before we have to sleep," Sookie assured before moving her mouth into a collision course with his.

The couple kissed deeply even as Eric picked Sookie up. Automatically, her legs wrapped around his body.

"The things I want to do with you, woman," Eric growled as he moved his kisses to her cheek and then neck when she needed to breathe.

"I can't wait," she panted.

"You can't?" he asked rakishly, even as he let her feel the evidence of his arousal.

She chuckled. "I wasn't bein' literal. You don't get to have sex with me in the tunnel, Eric," she warned playfully.

"Even though you don't smell like yourself or me right now, I can smell that you want me," he responded with a smirk.

"We have work to do," she reminded, though she was highly tempted to shirk her responsibilities. But then she remembered all that she'd heard.

"Eric, put me down and go to the other side of the tunnel," she ordered, pointing to the opposite side. Of course, her message was a bit muddled since her legs were still wrapped snuggly around his waist.

"What? Why?" the vampire asked as he continued his kisses.

"We need to talk about the things I've heard tonight," she insisted.

"You talk; I'll kiss," he grinned as he did just that.

"I can't concentrate with you doing that," she gasped as he nipped her earlobe.

"I missed you when I woke up," he sighed, stopping his kisses for a moment to simply embrace her.

She smiled to herself as she recognized the moment as the kind during which Eric's lust would soften into only the love he felt for her. Always, those moments came when he would be reminded of a way in which their lives had become enriched since they'd been together.

They enjoyed the simple embrace for a minute. Work could wait that long. Finally, he put her onto her feet.

"I love you," he said, letting her feel the strength of his emotions.

"I love you," she repeated, opening herself to his love and letting him feel her own.

He smirked and broke their embrace before moving to the opposite side of the 6-foot wide tunnel.

"Alright, lover, I'm ready to hear what you've found out," Eric announced.

Sookie chuckled and dove in to her findings.

* * *

 **A/N: So this was a weird chapter to write—since I wanted to finish up the Appius/Bill/Alexei stuff (for the moment) and get us back to Eric and Sookie. I also wanted to show very different kinds of interactions and tones between Appius and Eric—as well as how they assess and evaluate others. Appius likes Bill because he's so easily malleable; it's because Appius is actually quite weak. On the other hand, Eric looks for admirable & strong qualities in others when he assesses them. He is not intimidated, nor does he need to prop himself up on the backs of those weaker than himself. And—by the end of the chapter—I wanted to show how playful Eric can be, both with Quinn and Sookie. I also wanted to show a strong contrast between Bill and him. Bill has become so sick and twisted that he loves even the punishments that Appius gives him. Bill is actually warped enough to think that he could eventually supplant Eric in Appius's eyes, but the more Bill demeans himself, the more Appius will find him weak. Anyway, that's why the odd shifts in this chapter. I was trying something a bit different from usual. **

**I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Please leave a comment if you have the time and/or inclination.**

 **All the best,  
Kat **


	27. Chapter 26: Suppose

**Chapter 26: Suppose**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 1:30 a.m.**

"I know you believe that she is making an honorable deal, Majesty, but I don't trust Queen Sophie-Anne. And I trust Andre even less," Jade Flower warned.

"Certainly, Andre is no poster-boy for honor," Jennifer Cater agreed. "But I believe that the queen _is_ sincere about her offer of marriage and the generous sharing of her state's resources. Indeed—the untaxed usage of the Port of New Orleans alone will be a boon for Arkansas! I think it's a good deal, Majesty. Moreover, it's clear that you enjoy her company. I can think of much more disagreeable and potentially problematic matches you could pursue."

"Like Oklahoma," Peter commented sourly.

"Her or de Castro. Remember how he put out his feelers regarding you last year," Jennifer commented.

Peter cringed. "I've got nothing against two guys fuckin' like rabbits all night long. Hell! It happened plenty on long trail rides when I was a human. And don't even get me started 'bout the long nights in the Alamo when we had nothin' but death to stare us in the faces. A lot of otherwise straight men fucked on those nights—just lookin' for a little distraction. I didn't judge 'em. But that ain't never been for me, and I can't ever see it bein' for me—not even just once a year in exchange for the perfect alliance."

"A vampire's existence is about evolution and growth," Jade commented. "I am not saying that you should have sex with men when you don't prefer it, but you cannot eliminate out of hand all offers you receive from male monarchs. Sex is a mere tool to a vampire who knows how to wield it."

Peter sighed loudly. "I know you're right, Jade. And maybe when I'm older I'll get adventurous, but I'm still damned glad that my maker didn't prefer men either. It's not an issue that needs to be contemplated now—anyhow. I've gotta real good offer on the table from Sophie-Anne, and I'm leanin' towards takin' it."

"I still think she is playing you for a fool," Jade said bluntly. "And," she paused somewhat dramatically, "there is another way to gain advantage in this state—even more advantage than the deal that she's dangling in front of you promises."

"What's that?" Peter asked with curiosity.

Jade was silent for a moment. "You could take over Louisiana."

"What?" the king exclaimed with surprise.

"A takeover!" Jennifer cried at the same time.

"Keep your voice lowered," Jade hissed at Jennifer. She didn't dare order the king in such a way.

"Jade, you know I value your counsel, but in this situation, I think you are off-base," Peter said reasonably.

"I am just offering another option that you may not have considered," Jade returned deferentially. "Louisiana is a rich state, and your status in the vampire world would grow exponentially if you were the king of it."

Peter shook his head. "I doubt that the Council would look favorably upon an upstart king who took over the state of an established, well-liked queen."

"They did not object when you took over Arkansas," Jade reminded.

Again, Peter shook his head. "That is because the former king was a rat bastard who had stopped giving appropriate tribute to the Council."

"And who'd turned twenty humans in as many months," Jennifer added. "That many disappearances were beginning to create issues."

"Issues which—as one of the previous king's sheriffs— _you_ could not cover," Jade indicated judgmentally before looking back at Peter. "Majesty, you know as well as I do that the majority of Council members like you. Plus, they generally turn a blind eye to takeovers orchestrated by other monarchs," she added.

"That's likely because there are so few such takeovers," Jennifer contributed, her voice full of caution. "As you well know, takeovers generally occur against weakened or ineffectual monarchs; that is why the Council often reigns in any displeasure it may have when a state abruptly changes hands. And that is why they did not challenge Peter when he took Arkansas! Sophie-Anne is neither weak nor ineffective. Moreover, she is generally well-regarded—as one of the longest-serving queens in the New World. Would we really wish to move against someone like her?"

"But is she a trustworthy queen? Is _she_ the kind of ruler we want to align with?" Jade asked, shooting daggers at Jennifer with her eyes. Clearly, she wished to be using real daggers upon the younger vampiress's body. "Remember the file that I gave to you, Your Majesty; Sophie-Anne is no saint!"

Peter nodded. "That is true. It is undeniable that she has done some things that could be considered shady, but what monarch hasn't? And you must recall that there was _nothing_ in your file to indicate that she has ever failed to fulfill her end of a contract with another vampire."

"Perhaps," Jade relented. "But you must begin to consider the benefits of expansion, Majesty. Arkansas is too small for a vampire of your talents. What of the ambitions you once had? Ambitions to be one of the most powerful vampires in the United States? An opportunity like the one you now have before you may not come along again."

The king considered for a moment. "My ambitions have evolved, Jade. You know that. Anyway, I think forming a marriage contract with Louisiana will better Arkansas, which will—in turn—better my own position."

"Unless you are dead! I _still_ think the queen and Andre mean to betray you—to murder you and take Arkansas as their own," Jade insisted. "We should strike them before they can strike us!"

"And I believe that Sophie-Anne wants a true alignment; she will keep Andre in line," Peter argued. "I also believe it would be foolhardy to try to take over Louisiana. It is not just Sophie-Anne who would need to be eliminated. There are many formidable fighters in this state."

"The queen's children?" Jade scoffed.

"The sheer brutality of Wybert and Sigebert cannot to be taken lightly. Andre, it is said, has much craft in battle. And Sophie-Anne herself has been known to successfully battle those who most threaten her position— _personally_ ," Jennifer emphasized. "The queen has _never_ lost such a battle."

"But if we struck the weakest of her children—Hadley—the queen would be vulnerable for several minutes. Her other children would be affected too! They would fall like dominos! And quickly too!" Jade insisted.

"You aren't taking into account the two warriors who were sitting across the table from us tonight!" Jennifer reminded.

"Northman and Thalia," Jade sneered.

"Yes," Jennifer said with some frustration. "Those two _alone_ could kill all three of us within minutes!"

"Speak for yourself," Jade said with derision.

"Enough!" Peter silenced them before they began one of their long arguments. Though he valued the fact that his two must trusted advisors often had differing viewpoints—even from his own—he was clearly not in the mood for a circular argument.

"I will consider your points, Jade," he said. "However, my instincts are pointing me in the direction of accepting the marriage contract. You can let your spies sniff around more tomorrow during the daytime, but if they don't find any direct evidence of Sophie-Anne's duplicity, I'm gonna sign on the dotted line and celebrate with my bride-to-be at the ball."

"And if I learn she's treacherous?" Jade asked.

"We'll put off Sophie-Anne, go home, and regroup. But first, we'll _still_ enjoy the damned party!" Peter said definitively, his trademark smirk firmly in place.

* * *

 **Meanwhile**

"The marriage with Arkansas is a mistake, my queen," Andre said emphatically. "As I suspected, you have little to gain from the match."

Ignoring her eldest child for a moment, Sophie-Anne sat down on one of the plush couches in her private living room area and motioned for her youngest child to join her.

"You did beautifully tonight, Hadley," she said softly, before leaning in to kiss her affectionately.

After the queen broke their kiss, Hadley frowned a little. "But I was very jealous. I hated him flirting with you!"

Sophie-Anne smiled and stroked her child and lover's cheek. "I felt that. However, the important thing is that you did not act rashly upon your jealousy. You were able to sit through the entirety of the negotiations in seeming calm. And—because of that—I was able to present a united front with _all_ of my children. I am extremely proud of you, my beauty."

Hadley smiled widely. "I'm so glad!" Her expression faded. "Still, I hate that you may marry King Peter, but I do understand, though I'm jealous." She shook her head. "I wasn't jealous before I was turned—when you would feed from or have sex with others. Why is it so different now?"

Sophie-Anne drew her child in for a long embrace. "You are a new vampire. All emotions will run hot inside of you for a while; in addition, you will wish to have my undivided attention because you are young and intuit that you need me for all things. However, you are demonstrating control beyond your years."

"Wybert talked to me," Hadley said almost shyly as she looked up at her elder brother. "He helped me to understand that my jealousy could shame or harm you."

The queen looked at her wisest child gratefully. "I am glad that you listened to him."

Andre huffed, "She ought not to have needed to. Marriage so soon after turning a new child is not the standard," he added, though he was clearly trying to keep the accusation from his tone.

He did not fully succeed, however, and his maker gave him a sharp glare of correction before she looked back at Hadley with affection. "You know that I love you, Hadley. However, even before I made you, we agreed that exclusivity was not something I was prepared to give you."

Hadley bit her lip and nodded. "I think it's seeing Sookie and the sheriff," she said softly. "Talking to Sookie, it seems like . . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"I know," Sophie-Anne said in a comforting voice. "I am not surprised that you feel some envy for what my sheriff and your cousin have. I, too, feel envy for them."

"You do?" Hadley asked with surprise.

"Yes," the queen admitted, kissing Hadley's cheek. "The concept of the _âme sœur_ —the soulmate—is not something I believed in for much of my existence, though I have come to know that the concept is real, just rare. Eric and Sookie seem to have lucked into that kind of a relationship."

Hadley nodded sadly. "I wish I was yours—your _âme sœur_ ," she said with a rough accent.

Sophie-Anne smiled in appreciation of her attempt.

"As I wish that I was yours," the queen said tenderly. "Perhaps, we will both find a soulmate one day. But—in the meantime—is it not enough? What we have?"

"It is," Hadley said with an immediate smile.

"I believe so, too," the queen returned as she kissed her child's nose. "Nothing that I may have with Peter will affect us in a noticeable way. Do you believe that?"

"Yes," Hadley nodded.

"Good! Now—why don't you go feed and then have a bath. I will join you later."

Hadley nodded and then rose. "I am happy for Sookie—you know?" She shook her head. "There was a time when I would have let my jealousy of her and over King Peter get the best of me."

"You have grown _much_ since you were turned, sister," Wybert said.

Hadley smiled at her big brother and took a moment to embrace him as she walked by him. "Thanks to you," she whispered before ending their hug and then leaving through the door to the queen's bedroom.

As soon as she was gone, Andre sat down next to his maker. "Majesty, we must speak about the situation with Arkansas—and what must be done to curb Peter's ambitions to take your state!"

Sophie-Anne shook her head a little and then looked up at Wybert. "What are your thoughts?"

"I was skeptical of the Arkansas king—just like Andre," Wybert said, his voice much calmer and more measured than his brother's. "And it _is_ clear that Arkansas will benefit more than Louisiana will from any connection made between you and Threadgill."

"See?!" Andre said triumphantly.

Sophie-Anne shook her head to silence her eldest child and looked at the third she'd made, for Sigebert had been subdued and turned before his fiercer brother. On the contrary, Wybert had _chosen_ vampirism after he'd hunted down Sophie-Anne just in time to see his brother rise in his new form. With a wisdom that did not quite gel with his rough appearance, Wybert had instinctively understood what his brother had become, and he'd asked to remain with him. He had also pledged his loyalty to his would-be maker.

Andre had thought that traveling with two mountains of men would be conspicuous. Plus, it was difficult enough training one new vampire at a time. Sophie-Anne had agreed with Andre about the drawbacks of turning Wybert, but had done so anyway.

She'd never regretted that choice.

"What we will gain in a connection with Arkansas is not to be balked at either," Wybert remarked. "The joint venture of riverboat casinos from West Memphis to New Orleans is especially promising."

"We already have riverboat casinos!" Andre reminded.

"Moored and stationary," Wybert returned calmly. "The idea of operating gambling _cruises_ along a substantial part of the Mississippi, especially given the treaty Peter has with the Tennessee monarch regarding the joint use of the river, is an excellent one."

"I agree," Sophie-Anne nodded. "And that doesn't even take into account the fact that Peter is willing to offer me the territory that has been in dispute between his state and mine since his predecessor's predecessor conveniently 'forgot' where the border between our states actually is." She rolled her eyes.

"We _should_ have invaded Arkansas and taken the whole damned state seven decades ago," Andre sulked a bit.

Sophie-Anne smiled at her eldest child indulgently. "I know you counseled that step at the time, and I was tempted, but it wasn't as if we had any vampires wanting to live that far north. And—don't forget—I negotiated the deal to split the tributes of the Arkansas vampires living in the disputed territory. If you look at it that way, we've been getting partial tributes from a dozen Arkansas vampires for decades!"

"Arkansas insulted us," Andre growled.

"Threadgill was _not_ Arkansas at the time," Wybert reasoned. "And we did not have Sheriff Northman then to shore up the northern border."

"Northman," Andre said with derision.

"Did I hear my name taken in vain?" Eric asked with a smirk as he strolled into the queen's highly-warded living area behind Sigebert.

Andre rolled his eyes and sank back into the couch like a sullen child, though he did move his gaze to a much more pleasant sight: Sookie Stackhouse.

For the hundredth time that night, Andre wished that Appius Livius Ocella had not dictated that Sookie was to belong to Bill Compton—of all vampires! Perhaps, the elder vampire was stringing Bill along, just as Andre had done when it came to the Civil War veteran's supposed claim upon the telepath.

Indeed, Andre had lied to Bill more than once, promising him that he could possess Sookie Stackhouse when, in fact, Andre planned to dispose of Compton and then bond himself to the woman—before presenting her to the queen as a gift. Though Sophie-Anne might have initially been angry at Andre for grabbing Sookie and challenging Northman's ownership of her, she would have come to understand her favored child's motives.

Indeed, a new motive had formed as soon as Andre had seen the telepath. For lack of a better word, she was "alluring" to him, despite her scent being obscured by a witch's spell. Gifted with an uncommonly acute sense of taste, Andre ached to drink from her, to seek that tinge of Fae blood he knew was in Sookie's veins due to the fact that it was in Hadley's.

Except that Sookie attracted him more than Hadley ever had!

Yes—all would have been as it _should_ have been if Ocella had just gone along with Andre's schemes _exactly_. Still, Andre was glad that the elder vampire was "on the team," so to speak. It was clear that Ocella had a bone to pick with his child; thus, Eric's performance as sheriff would soon suffer. Indeed, Andre now saw a clear path toward getting rid of Northman. All he had to do was to sit back and watch Ocella destroy his child to the point that Sophie-Anne would be forced to remove Eric from his post. The added bonus of Pamela Ravenscroft's nights being numbered in Louisiana—to her last two—was enough to put Andre into an even better mood as the vampiress in question entered the room looking just as haughty as her maker.

Pam winked at Andre. The insolence!

Andre barely held back his hiss as he returned his focus to Sookie.

It was too bad he'd not foreseen Compton's uselessness and just gone to fucking Bon Temps to secure the telepath himself—the first damned night that Hadley had mentioned her talented cousin!

* * *

 **A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you had good weeks. Well—here we are with a new chapter. I have to admit that—as I began writing Peter—I sort of fell in love with him. LOL. I actually based his portrayal on the characterization I played with in the** _ **UN-iverse**_ **(** _ **Uninvited**_ **,** _ **Uncharted**_ **, and** _ **United**_ **). I know that he's different from "canon" here, but—remember—I take full liberties in changing whatever I like after my "jumping in" point with a story.**

 **I hope you like him too! I wanted this chapter to show behind the scenes between the monarchs and the negative influences upon them: Jade and Andre. I also wanted to give Hadley a bit more redemption than she's usually given. Often her "dumbness" and "naivete" is combined with spite. I wanted to take away the spite and to offer a "what if"—specifically "what if" one of her brothers—Wybert—had stepped in to help her quell her jealousy. Anyway—I hope you enjoyed this!**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	28. Chapter 27: How the Web Was Woven

**Chapter 27: How the Web Was Woven**

Sookie was nervous—and not just because she was about to tell a vampire queen about an assassination plan against her.

She was also nervous for a reason that struck her as being very "human"—despite being armpit deep in Supernatural beings and politics. She was—for the very _first_ time—using her telepathy to earn her living. Oh—she'd been reading plenty of minds during the last several months, and Eric had insisted upon "putting money into their business" for her efforts. However, reading Eric's lawyers and accountants; the Weres in Flood's inner circle; and the customers at Fangtasia had all seemed like practice for the untrained telepath.

What she was now doing for the queen was definitely _not_ a dress rehearsal!

Indeed, given the situation, it seemed she was smack-dab in the middle of an operatic drama! Or a Shakespeare tragedy in the making!

Not that she'd ever seen a play or an opera in person— _yet_. She was planning to change both of those facts soon, however—since her telepathic practice had made her capable of protecting herself with her shields even in a large crowd. Indeed, she and Eric had practiced big crowds recently by going to a packed movie theater—in a multiplex—to watch the latest Hollywood blockbuster.

It had been Sookie's first time at a night movie, let alone during a weekend. Indeed, the only time she'd ever tried going to the movie theater before had been a disaster! When they were eighteen, Tara and she had gone to a Tuesday matinee at the Shreveport mall for a movie that had been out for several weeks.

The idea had been to try going to the movies on an "off-day" and at an "off-time."

Sookie had thought that kind of outing would be doable for her. However, she'd not taken into account that the other movies in the multiplex would have their own crowds—albeit small ones—to deal with. And almost everyone within a single movie theater was focusing on just that movie, so Sookie heard five movies all at once!

She'd had one of the worst headaches of her life following her thirty-minute attempt. Not surprisingly, she'd never been brave enough to try again—until now.

With Eric by her side.

Speaking of by her side . . .

He must have sensed her nervousness because he moved closer to her and then took her hand. The small gesture made Sookie feel so much better that she almost smiled—until she noticed Andre out of the corner of her eye.

The creep had licked his lips as he stared at her.

Sookie cringed and gripped her bonded's hand tighter.

"I assume you've learned something," Sophie-Anne addressed her from next to Andre on the couch. She then gestured toward a second couch opposite hers, and Eric and Sookie sat as well. Pam took up a position behind Eric, while Thalia and Maria-Star had stayed outside of the room by the door where Sigebert was stationed. Wybert, mirroring Pam, stood behind his queen.

Sookie looked at Eric, who nodded encouragingly. He was sending her pride and strength through the bond _to a certain extent_ , but—mostly—he was letting her deal with her anxieties on her own.

And she loved him for that! His lack of "stifling sending" showed her that he trusted her, but would carry a part of her burden—and more if she needed it.

"I have learned some troubling things, Your Majesty," Sookie began before taking a deep breath. "You need to be very careful. There is to be an assassination attempt against you tomorrow night—right after you and King Threadgill sign the final contract, though before the ball."

"I knew it!" Andre stormed, rising to his feet. "I knew Threadgill couldn't be trusted! I'll end him—now!" he yelled, rushing toward the door.

Sookie shook her head vigorously.

"Andre!" the queen said loudly. "Sit! Now!"

Andre had gotten as far as opening the door, only to have been blocked by the formidable "gate" of Sigebert and Thalia.

"Don't make me make it a command!" Sophie-Anne said, her voice radiating with power.

Growling at Thalia and his "brother" with his fangs bared, Andre's posture stiffened as he took in the words of his maker and queen. Slowly, he closed the door and turned back toward the group in the room.

"There is more to hear—isn't there?" the queen asked Sookie as Andre made his way back to the couch and sat as if in protest.

"Yes," Sookie nodded, even as she realized that she was shaking due to both the suddenness of Andre's movements and the clear power that had resonated from the queen as she'd spoken to Andre. She took another deep breath. "It is _not_ King Threadgill that intends to hurt you, Your Majesty. As you know, I can't read vampire thoughts, but I've learned enough from the two-natured people from Arkansas to know that Jade Flower is the one who wants to kill you. She intends to assassinate you; then, the king will have no choice but to take over Louisiana since it's gonna happen _after_ you sign the marriage contract. A werebadger named Harley is the one who knows most of the plan, but he doesn't know every detail. On some things, like the other vampires involved in Jade's plan, he's speculating."

"What does Miss Flower intend?" Sophie-Anne asked calmly, though anger seemed to be bubbling right below the surface.

Sookie glanced at Andre and then focused again on the queen. "Jade has a spy in your court—a vampire named Margeaux."

The queen's eyebrow lifted. "Well—that is not a total shock. She's never been particularly close to my inner circle though."

"She knows enough to have told Harley about your habits when you conduct important business. She believes that—after signing the marriage contract—you will return to your chambers to get dressed for the ball. She has speculated that Wybert and Andre will be the ones escortin' you from your office to your rooms and that Sigebert will be looking after Hadley. Along with Margeaux, Jade has three other vampires—all from Arkansas—that are supposed to help her tomorrow night; Harley doesn't know their precise roles though. Also, Harley is supposed to stash some silver nets and stakes during the daytime tomorrow," Sookie informed. "They're gonna use those on you."

"So Jade doesn't intend to attack me in public," the queen mused as she took in and processed what Sookie was telling her.

"No," Sookie confirmed. "She hopes to catch Hadley and Sigebert unawares; eliminate them; and then take out you, Wybert, and Andre when you come rushin' into the corridor."

Growls and fangs clicking downward were heard from around the room, and Sookie gripped her mate's hand hard.

It took Sophie-Anne a moment to compose herself. "Does Jade intend to claim responsibility for Arkansas? That would be taking quite the risk, for the Council has generally favored me and likely wouldn't condone such a coup. Peter would be just as likely to be executed as he was to be given my throne!"

"Jade plans for Peter to be away from the scene of the crime. Um—plausible deniability," Sookie answered somewhat timidly, not surprising given that she was talking to the subject of the assassination plot that _she'd_ heard about. The telepath took another deep breath before continuing, "In fact, Jade's countin' on not gettin' caught at all, according to Harley. Margeaux knows enough about the security system to be confident about where the gaps in video coverage are. Harley thinks Jade's gonna try to slip in and out without being seen and commit all the murders where the cameras can't see—so that she can try to shift the blame onto someone else," the telepath finished, clearly upset by the news she was sharing.

"Who?" the queen asked.

"Harley doesn't know. He had a fleeting thought that—if he were the one in charge—he'd try to set up Quinn since he's tied to Nevada and King de Castro," Sookie shrugged. "But he's got no idea about the magic involved in your contract with Quinn. Um—the magic that makes him completely loyal to you as long as the contract is binding."

"Jade would know about the nature of Quinn's contracts," the queen said contemplatively. "Still—Nevada would be a good red herring. Andre, are there sufficient gaps in the security system to allow her plan to work?" the queen asked.

"Likely. We put a few gaps in intentionally—so that we could use them for our benefit," he responded. "And Margeaux _has_ witnessed our habits—apparently, enough to know that you generally send Hadley and Sigebert back to our apartments early while you, Wybert, and I finish up any important business," her eldest child confirmed somewhat reluctantly. "However, no matter how well Margeaux understands the camera system, she would never have been able to hear our private conversations."

Sophie-Anne nodded in understanding. "Has she ever been _alone_ in the monitoring room?"

Andre answered quickly, but softly. "It is possible. She is among those who rotate duty in the surveillance room."

"So she could have taught herself how to _disable_ various cameras as well," the queen posited.

"It is possible," Andre repeated.

"Is she tasked there tonight?" Sophie-Anne asked.

"No. Tomorrow," Andre informed.

The queen seemed to be processing the new information for a moment before she looked back at Sookie. "Did you hear anything else about who Jade is intending to blame?" she asked.

"She doesn't care who gets the blame? According to Harley, she just wants to make sure it's not her king. It was his thought that—maybe—it could be de Castro. Jade intends to make sure that King Peter is somewhere public or back in his rooms on the other side of the palace when it happens so that he will be covered by an alibi. And she and her friends from Arkansas intend to get an alibi from Margeaux, who is known to be a part of your court."

"How?" Wybert asked.

"I'm betting that she'll just say that she saw Jade elsewhere when it all happened," Sookie guessed. "And—since she's the one monitoring the cameras—people would probably believe her, so it's doubtful that anyone would double check the video recordings. Or it's possible that she might doctor the recordings so that Jade appears to be somewhere else."

"That would be crafty," Sophie-Anne frowned.

"According to Harley—Jade's gonna encourage the king to lead a vigorous investigation into the matter, but his ass will be covered. And she thinks hers will be too—because she can make sure the video recordings aren't studied too much. Since he can be glamoured, Harley is gonna leave tomorrow during the day—just as soon as he plants the nets and stakes. He's gonna lay low until Jade tells him it's safe."

"Surely, Jade doesn't think she could take us all out!" Andre said with arrogance.

"Jade Flower is not to be discounted," Sophie-Anne said softly. "In the corridors of my home—where I feel safe—and with my children close by, I would not expect an attack, especially not that soon after the accord was signed." She looked back at Wybert. "Her plan might have succeeded—yes?"

Wybert nodded solemnly. "If silver nets were used, it could. Jade is known to be a deadly close-quarters assassin. She is younger than the three of us, but—with help . . . ." He stopped midsentence.

Sophie-Anne took an unnecessary breath and looked at Eric and then Sookie. "Did you hear anything else?"

The telepath nodded. "From everything I heard, the king has absolutely _no_ idea about _any_ of this. Harley even speculates that Jade will move against Peter too—eventually—because she thinks that he's weak. Harley is loyal to her because they are lovers and because she pays him very well. Two other Weres are slightly aware of Jade's scheme, but only that she's plotting against Sophie-Anne at some point in the future. They are the ones who picked up the silver nets and stakes from Margaeux, who got them onto your estate by glamouring one of your long-term gardeners. Passing the nets along to Harley seems to have been the other two Weres' only role in the plot."

"And this Harley character didn't know Jade's vampire confederates?" the queen asked.

"Well—uh—he thinks he knows who they are, but he's not sure. He didn't think their names, but he pictured two of the ones he's pretty sure are aligned with Jade. One was a vampire I met earlier tonight—David. The other was part of Peter's entourage in the meeting room—Jasmine," Sookie responded. "I'm sorry I don't know anything about the other one."

"David is four-hundred and Jasmine is over seven-hundred," Eric supplied.

"And Margeaux is over 800," Wybert commented. "They wouldn't match us in strength, but with four or five attackers and silver, it would have been difficult to defeat them."

Andre scoffed, but didn't speak to contradict his vampire brother.

"So the question is what to do about all of this," Sophie-Anne sighed.

"Jade must be killed—immediately!" Andre hissed.

Sophie-Anne gave Andre a sharp look to silence him.

"Eric?" she asked. "What would you advise?"

Andre growled, but the Viking and the queen ignored him.

"The question you need to ask is whether you still wish to align with Peter," Eric began.

"Of course not!" Andre yelled.

Sophie-Anne sighed deeply. "Andre, I know how you feel about this matter, which is why I don't need to ask you. However, right now, I wish to hear all Eric has to say _without_ another outburst from you," she added warningly.

"Aligning with Arkansas makes sense in many ways," Eric said after a moment of silence had passed during which a sullen Andre had closed his mouth tightly, his lips quivering with the effort.

"What positives do you see?" the queen asked her trusted sheriff.

"Arkansas might not be a rich state, but that's not due to a lack of prosperity among the individual vampires there. My sources have told me that Peter's people are content and loyal because he is fair. They would fight for him and—in turn—fight for you if need be. The two-natured beings in his state are partners, rather than nuisances. He's a good king, Your Majesty. He lives modestly and wisely invests most of the tributes he receives. I think he would be loyal to you."

"I have considered other states to align with," Sophie-Anne shared. "Texas would be ideal in certain ways, but I have it on good authority that the King might be stepping down soon—with Stan Davis taking his place."

"I have heard the same rumor," Eric confirmed. "Stan might entertain an offer, however."

The queen smirked. "If he is like most arrogant new kings and queens, he'll entertain about _forty_ offers and string several of them along for _many_ years while he gets his bearings and solidifies his power in-state. And, as much as Russell is amusing at times, he is looking elsewhere for a marriage partner."

Eric considered for a moment. "You are pushing an alignment with a border state because you think that there will be a takeover attempt—correct?" he asked.

"Eventually, de Castro will make a move on Louisiana," Sophie-Anne said with a mixture of resignation and certainty. "He's made marriage offers in the past, and let's just say that I did not need Sookie here to know that Felipe _would_ be plotting my demise before the ink on the contract was dry. He tried with Peter a few years ago, but was shot down. If I'm correct, de Castro will target Oklahoma next—either as an ally or a marriage partner so that he can try to sneak into Louisiana from the northwest. Indeed, the only reason he's likely held back so far has been your presence in that area, but he'll become brazen eventually. If I align with Arkansas, I can keep a better eye on Oklahoma, and Felipe will rethink any sort of invasion into Area 5 since Peter could fight him from the north, and I could fight him from the south."

Eric's eyebrow rose. "Were you planning to tell me about your theory regarding my area being the place where de Castro may invade?"

"As if you didn't already suspect everything I already do," Sophie-Anne smirked.

Eric chuckled. "Fair enough. I believe Peter was exaggerating when he said that the Alamo would never have fallen if his maker hadn't chosen him out of the survivors and spirited him away in order to turn him," he grinned with a roll of his eyes. "However, he's a brutal motherfucker when he chooses to be. So—given your thoughts on the matter and my instincts and knowledge about Peter, he's a better match than he might initially seem to be. I'd counsel that you go forward with the marriage contract and then give the king the opportunity to help you eliminate his lieutenant."

"Those were my thoughts," Sophie-Anne said with a nod. "Wybert?"

"You clearly like Threadgill. I would suggest that you gauge his reaction to Jade's treachery _before_ you sign the contract, rather than after. But—other than that—I think you should go forward with the marriage."

Sophie-Anne turned to her eldest child, who was stewing. "I would like to hear from you now, Andre," she said softly, even as she tenderly took his hand.

Andre shook his head. "You seem to have already decided," he said sullenly.

"I am 99% there," the queen admitted. "But I still want to hear you now that you have heard what the others and I have said on the matter."

" _Threadgill_ is the one who chose Jade to be his lieutenant. At the very least, his judgment needs to be questioned. You are better than him, Your Majesty. Aligning with him would give him much honor, while it would offer you only a little additional security from potential future threats. Form a treaty with Arkansas, as you have done with Texas and Mississippi, and let that be the extent of it with Threadgill. Look for a better marriage partner elsewhere. You could even align with California or Arizona and then take over de Castro's state before he makes a move on us!" he finished definitively.

"Thank you," she said to her child affectionately. "And thank you, Sookie," she added as she turned her gaze to the telepath. "Your contribution has been invaluable here tonight and may have saved my life."

Sookie blushed. "I'm glad I could help."

The queen looked at Eric. "I'll be in contact before dawn about my decisions and our course of action. Until then, I believe that Sookie has done enough for the evening."

With that, Sophie-Anne rose to her feet, spurring everyone else who was sitting to rise as well. Eric and Pam nodded their heads respectfully, while Sookie offered a little curtsy.

Sophie-Anne smiled at the telepath with gratefulness in her eyes before dipping her head in a slight bow. It was clear that all the vampires were just as surprised as Sookie by the gesture.

After the queen had gone to her bedroom, Andre sneered at Eric before leaving through another door.

Eric gave Wybert a significant look.

"Andre cannot hear us in here; neither can my maker," Wybert said in answer to Eric's unspoken question.

"What is she doing about him?" Eric asked.

"She's watching him," Wybert responded.

"And what is he doing?"

"There are some places where Rasul has not been able to follow. Andre has been very cautious. However, earlier tonight, he went to one of his private homes—one he's concealed from even our maker—to drop off some donors. Rasul speculated that Andre is allowing a small nest of vampires to stay there. However, Andre did not stay to feed with them; instead, he immediately came back here and had a short meeting with Jennifer Cater before leaving the palace again."

"Did he return to his safehouse?" Eric asked.

"No. He went out of the city. North. He traveled in a direction he's gone in before, but Rasul could not follow him in the past. Octavia Fant has made him some scent concealing potion, however. So he attempted to follow tonight."

"Attempted?" Pam asked, speaking up for the first time since they'd entered the queen's private rooms.

"Andre cannot be followed if he truly makes an effort not to be," Wybert said with a hint of brotherly pride. "Even our maker cannot find him once he stifles their connection."

"He has that ability?" Eric asked.

"Our maker taught us all," Wybert said. "Andre is the best at it."

The Viking nodded in understanding. The vampires in his line had a similar ability, though Appius had commanded Eric to never try it with him.

"I sent Rasul to further investigate the safehouse once he lost Andre. There, he found the scents of four vampires outside the house. Andre was one, of course. And he knew one of the other scents: Bill Compton's."

Sookie gasped and held onto Eric's hand a little tighter.

"Compton is supposed to be out of the country," the Viking growled.

"The queen has told me that—if Compton makes a move while you are in the city—you have permission to kill him _with prejudice_. Meanwhile, after he reported to her earlier tonight, the queen tasked Rasul with returning to the safehouse until an hour or so before dawn when he will be relieved by a Were. Then, Rasul will return tomorrow right after sunset so that he can follow Bill if he leaves the safehouse again. Andre might be able to elude Rasul, but Bill won't be able to do the same. We are hoping that Bill might go where Andre has been going so that we can figure out what their plans are," Wybert informed.

"If those plans involve Sookie . . . ," Eric growled but did not complete his sentence.

"My maker intends to deal with Andre before the ball," Wybert said in a hushed voice, though the room was soundproof. "But—until then—she is," he paused, "using him to try to garner more information."

"That must be difficult for her," Sookie said compassionately.

Wybert looked at her with a little bit of surprise in his eyes. "It is, Miss Stackhouse," he acknowledged.

"Why not just kill Bill during the day tomorrow?" Pam asked. "If we know where he is, we could take him out."

"Rasul picked up the four vampire scents _outside_ of the dwelling," Wybert reminded. "He could not enter Andre's safehouse to discover any other information because there is a powerful spell around the dwelling. He could not even tell if the house was occupied when he was investigating. It seems to be protected by a modified spell against any ill-intent."

"Modified how?" Eric asked.

"My guess is that it has been altered to act against spying as well as ill-intent. Some ill-intent spells work only against those planning immediate harm to the owner of the dwelling. Since Andre likes conducting interrogations in his private residences instead of at the palace at times, he has modified such spells before to ensure his privacy against _anyone_ who is uninvited by himself or a guest."

Eric nodded in understanding. "So—if he's used this kind of magic before—there is no reason to assume that it is from Hallow."

Wybert looked momentarily tired. "My queen believes that Andre is somehow mixed up with Hallow and Compton in a scheme to get to you, Miss Stackhouse. Andre thinks he knows better than our maker when it comes to your," he paused, "employment status."

Sookie tensed up.

"If that is the case, we hope Compton will lead Rasul right to the witch. After the ball, we intend to capture anyone involved and then deal with them harshly," the Saxon informed, his voice taking on a deadly timbre. He looked right at Eric. "That harshness will not exclude Andre—if we are right about him."

Eric nodded at Wybert and then led Sookie from the room. It had been a tense night, and he and his bonded needed some time alone. Moreover, his senses told him that Sookie's scent still did not carry his own—at least, not to the extent that it should. And Sookie's scent within him had been covered by a damnable potion as well.

The idea irked him to the bone.

Thus, with business ended for the night, the Viking was more motivated than ever to finish what had been started in the tunnels before their meeting with the queen!

* * *

 **A/N: I really hope that I managed to clearly convey what Sookie had heard about Jade's plan. Saying enough without giving everything away can be hard. LOL.**

 **Anyway, did you enjoy all the intrigue? I hope so. Drop me a comment if you have the time and the inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	29. Chapter 28: All that I Am

**Chapter 28: All that I Am**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 2:30 a.m.**

"All is secure?" Eric asked Amelia and Molly, who were relaxing in the living area of the guest house when Eric, Sookie, Thalia, and Maria-Star emerged through the entrance to the tunnel.

Molly looked up from her laptop where she'd been piggybacking off of the queen's surveillance systems. "No threats to us, Sheriff. But I'd keep an eye on one of the Arkansas people—if I were you."

"Who?" Eric asked, his eyebrow raised, even as he glanced at his bonded.

"Jade Flower," Molly responded with confidence. "She seems a little _too_ adept at putting herself into places where I can't see her; I think she knows too much about how the queen's surveillance system works for someone from another state."

Eric smirked at the young vampire in his employ. "Sookie's telepathic gleanings have already told us that Jade's up to no good, but it's nice to see that your brand of expertise would have given us a warning as well."

"Oh!" Molly said, smiling a little at both the compliment and the fact that she'd been right.

Eric looked at Amelia.

"The magic's holding strong around the guest house," she reported without prompting. "Because of Octavia's help, the spell against ill-will should prevent anyone who shouldn't be here from getting in."

"Good," the vampire said, even as Sookie spoke out a, "Thanks!"

The telepath yawned widely.

"You're tired," Eric spoke the obvious.

"Hmmm . . . ." Sookie sounded.

"We'll retire for now," he said to the witch, Were, and two vampiresses. And he was certain that Batanya was in there somewhere, too. He smiled a bit to himself. He knew that Onawa and Willow were currently outside, patrolling around the guesthouse, and offering a report to Pam, who had gone directly to them after the meeting with the queen ended. Meanwhile, Tray was manning the guesthouse's guard station, even as Warren and Mustapha got some sleep in one of the rooms attached to the guard station.

With a few strong male exceptions, he couldn't help but to notice that he was surrounded mostly by capable women, with his mate being the most amazing of them all in his eyes. His human mother—so strong in her own right as she sometimes had to yank the village's people through food shortages when the men were gone "A-Viking"—would have been happy about his choice of company.

In that moment, he could vividly imagine her watching over himself and Sookie—approval shining in her blue eyes, which were also his blue eyes. Indeed, all Eric had ever needed to do was to look into a mirror to know that he still carried his strong mother with him. And he always would.

Of course, Eric had this thought in only a few seconds. However, his bonded could feel the warm affection that he felt in that moment, and she could also sense that not all of it was directed toward her.

She looked up at him with a question in her eyes, though she did not question his fidelity to her, nor was she jealous. She was simply curious about where his thoughts had gone.

He took her hand softly into his and led her toward their bedroom.

"Night everyone. Try to get some sleep—okay?" Sookie said, addressing Maria-Star specifically. She'd learned that the Were didn't need a whole lot of sleep to function at a high level; however, she was more likely than any of the others to overwork. Of course, Thalia—Sookie knew—would be at her post 24-7 if the sun did not prevent her from doing so.

A chorus of "good-nights" followed Eric and Sookie as they went into their room. Sookie closed the door behind them and then looked up at her mate, the question back in her eyes.

"I was thinking about my mother," Eric responded. "Surrounded by strong women, it would be impossible not to."

She smiled up at him. "Astrid," she recalled from his having spoken of her before—especially during a particular night in early January when they'd exchanged many stories about their families. They'd both enjoyed that night immensely.

"Yes. She was strong and brave—as you are." He chuckled. "However, it's good that you and she actually look _nothing_ alike. Otherwise, I might be accused of seeking out a mate just like my mother, and that is," he fake-cringed dramatically, "not a Freudian adventure I would like to be on."

Sookie giggled. "What did she look like? You never told me."

"She had raven hair—if you believe it. Indeed, though my father was blonde, I was the only one of their children to inherit that hair color. My other siblings were all dark-headed—not as dark as my mother though."

"I thought all Vikings were blond," Sookie said, her mouth in a flirty smirk.

"Nope. Just the best of us," he preened.

She grinned widely, but then her expression clouded with a little concern. "Speaking of strong women, what will the queen do?"

Eric took Sookie's hand and led her toward the bathroom. He turned on the shower and then began to undress himself.

Sookie giggled. "So—I guess that you _don't_ want to talk about politics then?"

He shook his head. "No. I'd rather worship your body for the rest of the night."

"Indulge me for a minute?" the telepath requested. "Otherwise, I'll worry about it all more than I need to."

Knowing his bonded well enough to know that she would do just that, the vampire nodded. "I speculate that Sophie-Anne will choose to give Peter the chance to help her deal with the Jade Flower problem; his choice will ultimately determine whether she goes through with the wedding."

"And if he doesn't help her?" Sookie asked.

"My instincts tell me that he will," Eric said, even as he checked the water to make sure it was at a good temperature before turning to his mate's clothing. She—of course—did not protest as he lovingly disrobed her.

"But if he _doesn't_?" she pushed herself to concentrate on political matters for at least another minute.

"She'll send his ass back to Arkansas before the ball and likely never trust him again. _And_ she'll make sure that Jade and her confederates are dead anyway—without Peter's help—before they leave Louisiana."

"And if King Peter tries to help them—or warn them?"

"The queen will have another state to rule by tomorrow morning," Eric said solemnly.

Sookie shivered a little—from a combination of the promised violence, the coolness of the room against her now-naked skin, and Eric's soft touches as he drew her into the shower.

The time for political discussion was over as soon as the Viking's strong hands began to massage shampoo into the telepath's long, blond tresses.

"I find that I dislike your new witch friend," he growled.

"Why? Amelia's great!" she responded, her tone showing her surprise.

"I don't like you smelling of others—when I cannot smell myself inside of you," he said softly, his voice laced with his displeasure.

"Then fix it," she returned, her tone commanding.

"I will," he growled, his own voice low and intense.

Sookie leaned her head into his touch as he continued to massage her scalp, and then he cradled her neck as he leaned her back into the spray of the water to rinse out the shampoo. He repeated the process—with, first, another round of shampoo and, then, a small dollop of conditioner—before moving on to wash her body, his touch staying more sensual than sexual.

When he was finally done with her washing, she took over, cleaning his hair and his body with just as much care. When she was nearing completion—having saved his cock for last—she re-soaped her hands and began to stroke him with slow, though firm strokes, enjoying every initial inch of him, even as she challenged herself to create even more inches, while encompassing as much of his increasingly impressive girth with her small hand. After she'd enjoyed the way that his eyes glazed over and his fangs jetted down, she took her second hand to him as well, increasing the amount of territory she could cover along his cock.

"Sookie," he groaned. "Don't stop. Please," he implored as she picked up her pace.

"Do I smell like you yet, Eric?" she asked, her voice like velvety seduction.

Almost swept away in pleasure, he shook his head. "No."

"I _need_ to," she whispered, letting go of his cock. "Right. Now!" she added, pushing lust and desire into their bond.

His groaning transitioned into a growl as he picked her up; her limbs immediately entwined around him. She gasped as her body was pressed into two cool surfaces at once, the slick planes of the tile behind her and the confluence of hard and soft ridges of her mate's body. She leaned forward into her preferred surface, even as his cock filled her fully, causing them both to moan deeply.

"How do you feel so fucking good—so goddamned tight—every fucking time?" he gritted out, looking at her with almost accusation in his eyes.

"How do you seem bigger every time?" she accused right back.

He smirked, but then trembled as she used her internal muscles to offer him even more pleasure.

"Gods, woman!" he exclaimed as he began to move in and out of her in a consistent rhythm.

"Oh God!" Sookie echoed, becoming lost in her own desire as his pace picked up.

The two seemed on a mission to completion.

He growled and sped up his thrusting.

Perhaps, their rush was their combined need to find perfect oblivion for just a few moments after the trying political intrigue which had surrounded them, not to mention the naming of Bill Compton—the vampire who would have surely raped, drained, and turned Sookie in a car trunk in Jackson, Mississippi, had Eric not arrived in the nick of time to prevent all three.

Perhaps, the increasingly frenzied joining had been brought upon by the fact that Amelia's spell had taken away one of the ways in which Sookie's and Eric's very beings yelled out to all others that they belonged with and to each other.

Perhaps, their desperation for each other was simply a byproduct of their bond and their bodies' ever-expanding need for one another.

Or, perhaps, it was because they both sensed themselves to be in danger—from both known and unknown forces that would separate them if they could.

To Eric and Sookie, it didn't matter why they felt so desperate in that moment.

Sookie's fingernails scraped into Eric's back as she held on for dear life as his speed increased yet again—to that pace that only vampires could accomplish. She yelled out as he lowered his right hand and began to stimulate her clit.

Eric's growling had become feral, though the sound of it did not scare his mate; on the contrary, it brought her closer to her completion.

Facts and feelings collided as she released and took him with her. He licked her throat, desperate to bite, but he held back. Sookie's first coherent thought after coming down from her orgasm was to giggle at him.

"What?" he asked, moving them back under the thankfully-still-warm spray of the shower so that they could rinse again, though he did not yet pull his cock out of her body.

"You didn't bite," she panted, still catching her breath.

"You know why," he returned, looking at her intensely.

She nodded. Indeed, she _did_ know. They both greatly enjoyed sex in a shower, but feeding could be tricky in one. It was difficult for Sookie to bite Eric when his skin was slick from water. And—as for the vampire—he bemoaned seeing _any_ of his mate's blood trail down the drain.

He was a vampire not ready to waste any part of her.

Sookie made fun of him for his "frugality" even as she loved him all the more for his desire to safeguard everything about her—down to every single drop of her blood.

"I want an exchange," he insisted as he put her onto her feet before turning off the shower.

"So. Do. I!" she responded forcefully, primally. She was the one growling now, letting the Supernatural being within her take prominence.

With purpose, the two dried off hastily, not caring that they weren't doing a thorough job. It would be good enough. Eric picked up his bonded and rushed them to the bed before lying Sookie down on her back and then taking a step away so that he could marvel at her creamy body.

Her own eyes were not shy about taking him in either. Despite having had a release not five minutes before, his cock was already ready again, standing up proud and eager. However, his eyes drew her in more than any of the other wonders of his body. The expression in them had turned from passionate to tender.

So tender and raw that it almost hurt her to look into them, but she held his gaze.

"I love you," he said softly, wonder in his tone.

She smiled radiantly. She no longer questioned whether she was worthy of love from someone as beautiful as Eric. However, she remained awestruck that a love like theirs could exist at all. It seemed too big to fit into the world, let alone the room they were in. But somehow, it did exist. And that love had found her. And it fit her.

"I love you, too," she proclaimed, even as he began to move toward her.

Unhurried now, he kissed his way up her body until his flesh was pressed against as much of hers as possible and their lips were compelled together. He managed to let her feel his weight without making her uncomfortable in any way because of that weight. She twined her hands around him and gripped his shoulders, pulling her body upwards so that their bare chests were even more flush.

"I love the way your chest feels against mine," she sighed as he moved his kisses toward her ear so that she could take some breaths.

"I do too," he agreed, putting a fraction more weight against her chest so that she could feel just how much. The beating of her heart seemed almost to echo within his chest.

She moved her legs so that they were on either side of her mate's hips. As always, his cock seemed to find her opening without any help from their hands, and he moved into her.

"Eric," she gasped, loving the feeling of his size and his weight all at once. She felt small and protected, while at the same time strong and capable of bearing his weight. Those feelings should have been contradictions, but they were not with the couple, for their bodies had been made for one another.

He moved with slow strokes, keeping as much of his body against hers as possible.

She gasped and moaned through the pleasure—until he slowed down and stopped above her.

"I need you to know that my time with you has been the most important—the most joyful—the most profound—of my thousand years," he said, his voice stiff with emotion.

Minutes before, she had closed her eyes to better focus on his slow movements within her, but she opened them at his words. However, she did not find his own gaze where she was expecting it to be. Instead, he was looking down—as if at her chin.

"Eric?" she asked.

He looked up at her, and she could tell that his eyes were rimmed with red.

Immediately concerned, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"I _need_ you to know . . . ," he began, but then stopped as a red tear fell from his eye.

Sookie instinctively wiped it away and then put his blood into her mouth.

"My blood is yours," he said softly. "My heart is yours. My soul is yours. All that I am is yours. You know these things—right?"

"I do," she assured, even as she stroked his blood-stained cheek. "And I am yours, Eric."

He nodded and began to move again, though still slowly. "Whatever happens in the future, my love for you will never fade. Even if," he paused, "something were to happen to one of us, I would find you. My soul—which you have discovered within me—would seek out your own. Nothing will keep me from you, Sookie. Not even the true death. Nothing!"

"Eric?" Sookie asked, tears suddenly burning her eyes. "Why are you afraid? Why does it sound like you're sayin' goodbye to me? Do you think something's going to happen?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I had a feeling earlier—of dread."

"About what?" Sookie asked, trying to concentrate on the seriousness of their conversation even as he was still bringing pleasure to her body with slow strokes.

"I do not know. It lasted only for a moment—when I first arose without you. It felt like you'd been," he paused, "taken from me."

His volume was so low as he finished that she had to strain to hear him. However, she did not need to strain to feel his unrest in their bond.

"But I wasn't taken. And I won't be," she reassured.

"I will move heaven and earth to make sure that is true," the vampire stated firmly.

"We'll be okay. Tomorrow night, we'll watch out for Jade and the others working with her. We'll keep _each other_ safe," she vowed.

"Yes," Eric said, though there was still a bit of uncertainty within him. No—it was more that he was disconcerted, rather than uncertain.

"Whatever it was—your feeling," Sookie said softly, "it is _not_ here—with us—now. We are fine, Eric. And we _will_ be fine."

"Promise me," he said almost desperately, "no matter what happens . . . ."

"I promise," Sookie said, "no matter what happens, we'll be together."

"I will leave Valhalla to find you in the Summerland if I must," he said, his voice shaking with emotion.

"I will leave the Summerland and meet you in the middle," she vowed.

"We will find our own place in the afterlife—one where we can both dwell. _Together_ ," he emphasized vehemently. " _Promise me_ that you believe that—that you believe in me to make it happen."

He was moving faster now, their bodies taking over on their own, even as their hearts and minds were connecting with promises that others might have thought were impossible.

"I believe in you," Sookie said with certainty. "I believe in us."

"No matter what occurs," Eric promised.

"Yes!" Sookie said in agreement and pleasure as her orgasm neared.

"We'll be together!" he growled.

"Yes!" she repeated.

In the next moment, he'd half-flown and half-rolled them so that he was sitting and she was on his lap. Though she was used to such quick movements by now, she still gasped, but his emotions had changed with their position.

All of his fear was gone—replaced by steely resolution. "I'll _never_ lose you, min kära. Never!"

"I know!" she yelled out as her walls began to quake around him.

"Bite!" he half-ordered and half-begged.

It took her no time at all to zero in on the patch of soft skin on his neck and, even as he thrust up into her, she bit into him. Despite the shallowness of the bite she could create with her human teeth, his blood—the flavor of him—exploded into her, and she exploded around him, her orgasm steamrolling through her body.

"Sookie!" the vampire yelled out as he leaned forward to complete the circuit of their exchange. He released as soon as her sweet blood hit his tongue.

It took them both a few minutes to calm down, though the vampire instinctively cleaned and healed the wound he'd made in his mate's neck even before he could think coherently again.

As soon as he could, he moved them so that he was lying on his back and she was cradled against his side, her head on his chest. She drew lazy circles along his abs and the V of his hips.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she finally asked. She did not need to tell him that she was referring to his earlier unrest.

"No," he said softly. "The feeling came and went, and I was fine tonight. I was," he paused, "overcome there for a moment, though I meant everything I said to you."

"As I did, too," she vowed. "But—if there is one thing that I know—it is that we need to trust our feelings. If you had a bad feeling, then I think we need to be even more careful than ever."

"We will tell Thalia and Maria-Star to be on extra alert," Eric said.

"And I'll have Onawa and Maria-Star stay right by me tomorrow when I'm scanning everyone again," Sookie said with determination. "Hell! Quinn's strong, so I might even let him practice his flirting—as pathetic as it is—just for the added layer of defense."

Eric chuckled. "Are you implying that you are willing to use Quinn as cannon fodder—a meat shield—so that you and your guards will stay safe, my love?"

Sookie snorted out a giggle. "I wasn't thinkin' of it quite that way."

"But it couldn't hurt, and—the gods know—he could use all the practice he can get with his pitiful flirting."

"I'll probably dry heave if he calls me 'babe' again," the telepath giggled.

"Have Onawa film it," Eric chuckled.

Sookie reached in to tickle her beloved, so—of course—he retaliated until the collisions of their bodies led them, once again, toward more carnal delights.

Their serious conversation from earlier was forgotten as they playfully made love one more time before Sookie succumbed to sleep.

After she did, the vampire held her close for a while before rising to quickly inform Thalia that they all needed to be even more vigilant than before. The vampiress did not question him, and Eric was comforted to see the wheels spinning in her head as she contemplated additional security measures.

Feeling better, Eric returned to his mate's side and resumed holding her—watching over her.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi all! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. I felt that we could all use a love scene amidst all the political intrigue and plotting among the villains. As a writer, I was "missing" our main characters. So I knew that you all must be too! Thanks for bearing with me as I'm trying to bring so many characters' stories into this piece!**

 **Borrowed line alert! For those of you who are fans of the show, I'm sure you noticed the "Why does it sound like you're sayin' goodbye to me" line. I know that this piece is set in the Book-verse, but I loved that line in Season 3, and I wanted to make sure that I gave credit where credit was due.**

 **Please comment if you have the time and/or inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**

 **P.S. Story Update: As of now, I have 39 chapters of this story drafted; some are with the amazing Kleannhouse and some are just awaiting final touches. That means, we'll be able to go uninterrupted with weekly chapters for at least 11 weeks. Yay! At this point, I'm thinking the story will have about 45 chapters (up from the last update). Hopefully, I can keep writing on the rough draft so that there will be no more delays with the weekly postings. Thanks to everyone who's been patient with this story.**


	30. Chapter 29: Tomorrow is a Long Time

**Chapter 29: Tomorrow is a Long Time**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 4:30 a.m. (this section directly follows the last chapter)**

Eric mused about how his life had changed since Sookie Stackhouse had come into it—pretty much crashing it to pieces.

Emotions that he'd suppressed for centuries had formed waves in her wake—spreading outward, becoming ever-larger.

And when they had crashed, they had altered him forever, reshaping every single part of him that the world could not see, even as his outer shell had remained what it had always been.

He'd once told Sookie that he hated _feeling_. He hadn't been lying.

Feeling things was dangerous. It had always been thus with the Viking vampire.

His human parents had been attentive enough—given the times during which he was raised—but they'd had little time for great shows of feeling. Those would have been impractical. After all, death was so common and generally came to people so much sooner than it did in the modern world that it was unreasonable to become overly attached to anyone. Not only had his older brother been slain young, which had forced Eric to wed his brother's widow (a woman he'd cared very little about at the time), but also Eric's parents had built funeral pyres for two of his other siblings—two younger sisters. Eric had made the mistake of doting upon the first of his sisters—just three years younger than himself—and had mourned her keenly when she died of a fever during her fifth winter. He'd learned his lesson and had barely acknowledged the sister who'd been born the year after that; she'd died when she was in her sixth winter, and Eric had barely noticed. Another sister had been born in the meantime, and she lived. Eric had eventually become friends of a sort with that sister, but they had never been what any could deem close.

Yes—even as an adolescent, Eric had realized the folly of counting on the lives of others to go on. Still, he'd created friendships with his fellow soldiers, men whom he'd eventually led into battle.

However, each time one was lost, he let himself feel their exits from the world a little bit less—until losing a "friend" was just another normal occurrence of life.

Indeed, by the time Appius turned him, Eric had perfected the art of not feeling anything too sharply. For example, Aude had passed away only weeks before Eric set out to meet his new betrothed and her father in a neighboring village. Certainly, he'd felt _something_ when he'd learned about Aude's death and about the newly-born child who'd exited the earthly plain with her. But that feeling had been little more than melancholy, solved easily by mead.

Under Appius's "care," positive emotions were most certainly neither generated nor welcome. If Eric liked or even mildly enjoyed something, Appius would _feel it_ through their bond and snatch it away. Thus, feelings became even more undesirable for the young vampire.

Indeed, the only thing Appius wanted Eric to have positive emotions about was his maker's attentions, and—even then—Appius did not wish to inspire _love_ from his child.

Looking back, Eric realized that Appius had wanted his child to be _obsessed_ with him—to covet Appius's affection with wanton _desperation_. Not love.

But Eric had never felt the things that his maker wanted him to feel. He was incapable of it. However, for a time, Eric had _accepted_ the things Appius wanted from him physically; the Viking had even mustered up some form of affection for his maker—and gratitude for some of the things Appius taught him about warfare and survival. Such feelings, however, were for _practicality's_ sake—nothing more.

Appius knew that; he _felt_ it.

Eric closed his eyes tightly, recalling how his maker used to punish him for his "inadequacies," as Appius had put it.

In the darkest nights of his time with his maker, Eric had been certain that Appius would _never_ let him go. However, on the night that commemorated the 200th year of his turning, Appius had fucked Eric brutally and then told him to get out of his sight. There had been no warning—nothing to clue Eric in to what had been coming. Indeed, if anything, Appius had been more covetous of Eric's time and devotion during his 199th year of vampirism.

It had taken Eric a long time to stop looking over his shoulder for his maker every night. However, Eric had never gone a full night without dreading at least the possibility that Appius might choose _that night_ to reenter his life.

Still, Eric had found a way to persevere, but he'd made mistakes when it came to feelings. He'd _felt_ too much for Karin, his first child and first long-term companion after his expulsion from Appius's life. That kinship had ended with pain—as it had been necessary to release Karin in the most profound way known to vampires because his maker had been barreling back toward Eric's existence with a dizzying and terrifying force at the time.

After that, Eric had barely been able to feel his first child at all; for all intents and purposes, he'd lost her.

Appius had been _feeling_ miserable over losing a child of his own, one whom he'd failed to successfully turn, and he had taken out his _feelings_ on Eric. The Viking closed his eyes tightly, suppressing the remembered pain of Appius's brutal visit so that it would not affect his sleeping bonded. Appius had given Eric only one reason for that brutalization: He'd said that hurting Eric "restored him and made him feel whole again." The Viking had been certain that he would be chained to Appius for centuries once again, but the maker left his child battered, fingerless, and fangless in a cave only a week after he'd reappeared in his life. It had taken Eric months to fully heal from his time with Appius. And he had little doubt that his maker would have forced him to kill Karin if she'd stayed by his side. So it had been best to let her go.

Still, a part of him mourned his irrevocable break with his eldest child.

Thinking about Karin— _Isolde_ —the vampire could not stop himself from reaching out for their broken bond. He sighed as he felt nothing but hollowness. The only thing he could feel was his own essence inside of her—like a stowaway on a ship. Still—at least—he knew that she was still alive; the ship of her existence was still afloat.

However, he'd not felt a specific sense of her location in a while. But he trusted that she was near, ready to kill her own maker if Appius returned and opted to use Eric as a threat against the woman who had compelled him to _feel_ with a fervidness that eclipsed everything that Eric had ever experienced.

Indeed, all of the emotions he'd ever had—during his one-thousand-plus years combined—paled next to the love he felt for Sookie Stackhouse in a single night.

"I will protect you," he whispered, barely audible, even as his dread from earlier creeped back into the edges of his mind.

The Viking frowned at the realization that he was feeling fear, an emotion which seemed a twin to his love for his bonded, for—with loving so strongly—had come the fear that his love might be taken away.

Sookie shifted in his embrace, her back pushing backwards to find more of his chest to touch, her hands finding and then grasping his, which were resting near her stomach as they "spooned" together. The vampire could not help but to smile. Even in her sleep, she seemed able to understand his unrest. Even in her sleep, she sought to comfort him.

Even in her sleep, she loved him.

And feared for him. _With him_.

He gripped her tighter.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 3:00 a.m. (ninety minutes earlier than the previous section)**

"Dear sister!" Mark Stonebrook said, trying to get Hallow's attention.

She had the female vampire sitting on a stool, and she was behind her—greedily gulping down her blood straight from her neck. Of course, there was no danger of the vampire retaliating, for Mark had placed a strong freeze-spell over her. But keeping her that unmoving was taxing him.

"What?!" Hallow asked hotly, angry at being interrupted from her blood-taking. She held up the small knife she'd used to open up the vampire's flesh, almost as if threatening him.

To Mark's eyes, his sister looked too much like a vampire in that moment. However, instead of feeding for sustenance, Hallow fed for more power.

Before she'd used her magic-steeped knife to cut into the vampiress's neck, his sister had almost silently chanted the spell that would transfer a bit of the vampire's magic into her. The "Transference Incantation" was a spell of Hallow's own making, and she had never shared the language of the spell with anyone—not even her brother, though she had allowed him to enjoy the benefits of her creation to a certain extent.

Having a centuries-old vampiress add to her power was clearly causing his sister to become drunken—compelling her towards ardent violence.

Mark knew that he had to stop her before she did something that would irrevocably harm them both.

"Please," he entreated. "We must not take too much blood from her."

Hallow hissed. "You are just angry because I have not shared with you yet—that I've not yet secured blood for Debbie—the waste that _that_ will be! What if I want it _all_!?" she cried out like a rabid dog.

"No," the brother said, his own voice as calm as possible. "You may take all that the vampiress can safely give, Sister. I do not question your right to her blood, though I do celebrate it when you are generous. Please believe that I worry only about the reaction of Appius—if he finds this one to be too incapacitated to do what he wishes for her to do."

Hallow's already yellow eyes flashed dangerously, and her body shivered with a suppressed need to shift and then tear out the neck of the vampiress in her grasp. Instead, she angrily stepped away from the vampiress and licked her knife—before sheathing it.

She stormed to where Mark stood with his head dropped in supplication.

"Take three vials from her! One for yourself. One to give to Debbie. And one more for me tomorrow night!" she ordered.

Mark nodded as Hallow huffed and then left the room. He sighed with relief as he went about doing what his sister had ordered. Stifling his own need for the vampiress's blood, he inserted a special silver encased needle into her arm and took the vials as quickly as a trained medical technician might. After storing the blood into a small cooler, he took a six-pack of TrueBlood out of a bag and brought five over to the pale vampiress.

For the first time, he looked at her face and into her eyes. The freezing spell would prevent her from glamouring him, though it was clear that she was trying to bring him under her will.

"I am going to take off your ball-gag now, but you will not be able to bring down your fangs," he said softly. "Nor will you be able to move on your own. Trying to do either will give you much pain," he warned.

As soon as he removed the ball-gag, he could see her fighting against his magic. He smiled at her in an almost paternal way, even as he opened the first bottle of TrueBlood and forced it into her mouth before turning it upward and making the vampiress drink it.

Though it was clear from the look in her eyes that she did not want to take the blood, she was powerless against the Were-witch's spell.

"I have worked very hard to prove myself useful to my sister," he said, petting the vampiress's lovely blond hair as he started her on the second bottle. "Only that motivation has made me powerful enough to hold you still like this," he added, as if having heard questions about his abilities from her.

He was silent through the third and fourth bottles he made her drink.

"You are beautiful," he said as he set aside the fourth bottle. He felt troubled for a moment as he took in the creature whom he'd helped to make helpless.

A brief impulse to let her go flooded him. He was not sure if that feeling was due to her continued attempts to glamour him or his own endlessly stifled ethics peeking through into his consciousness.

"And you are powerful," he added as he opened the fifth bottle.

He brushed his fingers tenderly across her cheek. "I do not want to harm you," he said honestly. "I do not want to help Appius Livius Ocella to harm you."

Her eyes seemed to be screaming at him. They seemed to be saying two simple words: " _Then don't_."

He began to feed her the fifth bottle, though this time he did so more slowly so that she could swallow on her own. He was pleased when she cooperated, though he knew that she was doing so only because she felt he might soften towards her.

In truth, he had already softened towards her plight.

He used his own magic to reach out and to make sure that none could overhear him. Assured of his privacy, he spoke as if to a confidant, "If I had my own way—if I could determine my own life—I would be living quietly. I would have a wife by now and children." Picturing his fictional children, he smiled with longing. "I would love them whether or not they were magical, and—if they were blessed with magic—I would teach them the," he paused, " _right_ kind of magic—the kind that leads to no harm or obsession."

He felt almost pained as the bottle became empty.

"One more," he said softly. "I know you don't need it, but one more." He brought the last TrueBlood from the six-pack over to her. This time, he fed her even more slowly.

"My sister corrupts magic, but I love her. I am duty-bound to her and to ensure that she wrecks as little havoc as possible." He sighed loudly. "I try to ensure that her magic never touches innocents. And—when I cannot do that—I encourage her to focus on only one or two targets, rather than a world full of them." He shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry that focus is on you right now, just as I will be sorry when it is on Eric Northman after that."

Again, her eyes bore into him, the blueness of them so stirring that it made his own eyes sting.

"You wonder why I don't just stop her—kill her," he guessed. "I won't though, so do not hope. It would be pointless."

The sixth bottle empty, he bent down to kiss her cheek before securing the ball-gag again.

"All I can promise is that—if I can see a way to kill you quickly after you fulfill Appius's purpose for you tomorrow night—I will do so."

He took a moment to put all the empty bottles back into the bag that he'd brought them in.

"It feels good to speak so openly," he said, turning back around to her. "I am sorry to have taken advantage of your incapacitated position to do so, but it has been," Mark paused, "so long since I had someone that I could speak so freely to." He sighed. "I am sorry to say that I have been able to do so only because I know you will be dead by tomorrow night."

He picked her up and placed her back into the crate before nailing it shut again.

He put his hand over the smooth wood—where he knew her face was. "There is nothing more to say," he said, his voice sounding eerily empty to his ears, just as his life felt empty to him when he was not fully focused upon his sister.

He closed his eyes and released the vampiress from his freezing spell. Immediately, he heard her move and grunt. Then, he created a spell around her crate so that no one could get in or out. Indeed, the last thing anyone needed was for one like Debbie Pelt to stumble across the crate and drain the vampiress.

Mark gathered the bag of empty bottles and the cooler and then moved slowly out of the room. He did not allow anyone to see how the use of so much magic affected him—weakened him. Indeed, he felt that he decreased his own life force with every spell he brought to life. He gripped the handle of the cooler. As much as he hated the thought of continuing to drink vampire blood, he knew that he needed to in order to keep his own strength up. So—as soon as he safely stowed the rest of it for the next night—he would take his vial of the vampiress's blood and let it soothe that which was taxed within him.

And he would keep going.

* * *

The Were-witches had taken enough blood from Karin to greatly weaken her—only to force-feed her TrueBlood until she knew that she'd be completely replenished by the next night.

Not that it would make a damned bit of difference!

She had been secured so tightly in silver chains by Appius Livius Ocella that she could move neither her arms nor her legs, and a silver ball gag (though thankfully encased in leather) ensured that she could not use her primary weapons—her fangs—either.

Moreover, she now felt a strong field of magic surrounding the crate that she'd been tossed back into following her blood-letting.

Karin faced the truth: She would not be going anywhere unless her captors took her there.

And it wasn't as if she could call her maker to come and help her either. Their connection with one another was too weak for that kind of thing. Indeed, he would not be able to feel her distress unless he was within a hundred or so yards of her.

Not that she wanted him to try a rescue.

Karin closed her eyes in lament. No matter how well she'd planned or how good of an assassin she'd become, she'd been no match for Appius—once he'd made her his target. She was still uncertain about how he had known that she was tracking him. What she did know was that as soon as he left the vehicle Bill Compton was driving toward the Manilla Airport, her defeat at the hands of the older vampire had been assured.

She shook her head in almost disbelief as she recalled the speed with which he'd flown and the power of his strike as he'd caught her midflight.

He'd easily fractured her skull. Then he'd severed her spine and followed with glee as she'd plummeted to the ground. She'd been unable to move for hours after that.

Appius had simply waited until the potions she'd been using to alter her scent and to cover up her remaining blood connection with her maker had worn off.

Of course, he'd found something to do as he'd waited; he'd tortured her for fun, "instructing" his horrid child and Bill Compton. He'd known that she wouldn't talk, so he'd asked her nothing about why she'd been tracking him.

Finally, her potions abandoned her. And with his keen senses, Appius had known her for who she was: the first child of his child, someone he'd thought had long since perished.

And he'd been furious—striking her again and again until their landing in New Orleans was imminent. And then he'd put her into the crate.

But it wasn't until he opened it that Karin's true fears came to fruition. He'd guessed at her deep love for her maker.

More than that—he'd seemed to step inside of her head and understand within minutes that she was _in love_ with Eric!

And Appius had figured out a way to use her against the one she loved—of that she was certain.

Worst of all, she did not believe that she would be able to do a damned thing to stop him!

Twenty minutes before—when it seemed as if Hallow was so compelled by her blood that the witch would drain her—Karin had felt hope. If she were truly dead, then she couldn't be used in whatever plot Appius had fashioned in his sick and twisted mind.

However, those hopes had been crushed by Mark Stonebrook, who—despite his own interest in her blood—had stopped his sister from bleeding her dry with greed. He'd been the one to force the TrueBlood into her as well.

And he was the maker of the magic that had been—at first—holding her still and—now—keeping her trapped.

Still, she'd found hope again when the male Were-witch had spoken to her with sincere regret about his actions. Despite her weakened state, Karin had tried to compel him through glamour to let her go. But he'd been unaffected by anything other than his own seemingly "hopeless" story. It was now clear to her, however, that even if a part of him seemed to hate his sister, he was not about to betray her.

Thus, her hope had abandoned her again.

Karin's sharp mind sifted through everything she knew about her situation, looking for any way she might manufacture the end of her own existence before she could cause harm to her beloved.

But, trapped as she was—by both silver and magic—she could think of nothing.

All of her years honing her skills as an elusive assassin were now nothing!

There was no way out.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope that you enjoyed this week's chapter. Just to clarify—Eric fully released Karin—using magic to the point that there was barely anything left of their bond—so that Appius would believe that she was truly dead. Some of you have been wondering why Karin hasn't reached out to warn Eric through their bond; she can't because it's so weak. And—she wouldn't anyway because she loves Eric; I hinted at her feelings when she and Eric interacted in The Boot (Chapter 20). I hope that clears up any confusion caused by this story being started quite a while back.**

 **I really wanted to show (at the beginning of the chapter) that Eric is feeling some dread. Undoubtedly, this is because Appius is near (though Appius is blocking their bond). I think, though, that Appius is consciously or unconsciously feeding Eric little spurts of dread—just to toy with him. Someone like Appius wouldn't be able to help himself. And though our Viking hasn't put together that Appius is close by yet, his mind cannot help but to be reminded of him because of his feelings of unrest. Anyway, please leave me a review if you have the time and/or inclination.**

 **All the best,**

 **Kat**


	31. Chapter 30: Listen to the Bells

**Chapter 30: Listen to the Bells**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 3:09 a.m. (this chapter begins a bit earlier than the ending of the last chapter)**

Noelle opened the door to a side entrance of the building in which her mistress had chosen to reside during her stay in New Orleans, Louisiana. The Handmaiden had been excited to make the trip with her mistress. It was the first time she'd ever been able to travel so far from the Ancient Pythoness's permanent residence—a magically enhanced island not far from the Greek coast.

The Ancient Pythoness—Pythia to her Handmaidens—had taken Noelle in after she'd been left for dead by Neave and Lochlan, two thugs employed by Prince Niall's enemies, Rogan and Breandan.

One of Noelle's grandparents had been human, making her three-quarters fairy. That—apparently—was not pure enough for Rogan's faction.

Noelle had been only five human years old when she'd been found by the fearsome twins near the woods of her father's mother's home, which was about thirty kilometers away from Dublin. Noelle had gone to live with her human relative when her parents, who had been allies of Niall's, had died during the first major battle between Niall's and Rogan's factions.

Her human grandmother had been slain by Neave and Lochlan. As for herself, Noelle had been told that her arms and legs had been broken—as had each of her fingers and toes. Thankfully, her fragmented memories—coming to her in the occasional nightmare—allowed her to recall only a fraction of the pain she'd felt.

Pythia and some of her handmaidens had come to save Noelle approximately two days after Neave and Lochlan had left her locked in her grandmother's home, incapacitated next to the dead woman's body. Pythia had seen Noelle in a vision that very night and had come immediately.

The five-year-old had been near death.

Pythia had taken in Noelle and had kept her safe. She'd placed her in the care of one of her handmaidens—another fairy. Now at thirty-years-old by human standards, though looking much younger because she was mostly Fae, she was ready to use her powers in her mistress's service.

Her first task had been to meet with the part-Dae, Desmond Cataliades. Pythia had scolded her a little—though Noelle could tell that she wasn't really cross with her—when the fairy had reported all that she'd told the part-demon.

Pythia had given Noelle permission to tell Desmond only that Sookie and he would eventually enjoy a good relationship. Admittedly, Noelle had not limited herself to telling just that. The demon had seemed so hopeful—so happy to be hearing news that warmed his heart! Noelle, who was a strong empath, had not been able to resist telling him just a bit more.

Thankfully, Pythia had never faulted Noelle for the impulses her empathy had led her to follow. Indeed, she'd encouraged her to strengthen her skills over the years.

It was these skills that allowed her to "feel" the presence of the Britlingen when none of her sister Handmaidens, not even the telepaths in the groups, could.

More importantly, she could feel her mood.

"Hello," Noelle said into the seemingly empty alleyway.

A warrior materialized before her. Noelle couldn't help but to gasp a bit as she witnessed and felt—for the first time—the power that emanated from a Britlingen, the species of warrior who had been the inspiration for the human myth of the Amazons. Noelle had learned about Britlingens, of course. But she had never had the chance to meet one.

"You are Batanya," Noelle greeted, stating the obvious. "I am Noelle, Handmaiden to the Ancient Pythoness. You are well-met," she added with a respectful nod.

The Britlingen looked at her expectantly.

"Will you follow?" Noelle asked, even as she turned to go inside the building. The Britlingen did as requested.

"You felt my presence," Batanya observed as the two turned left down a hallway.

"Barely," Noelle shared. "I wouldn't have at all—if you weren't curious. And a little annoyed," she added in a whisper. She turned to offer Batanya a smile, but noted that the warrior was not looking at her.

Instead, Batanya was looking at their surroundings with the eyes of one gauging the space for all of its hidden recesses.

"There is magic around this place," Noelle shared. "But I'm sure you feel that."

"Yes," the Britlingen stated.

"My lady does not wish for any to know that she is here," the fairy commented—again stating the obvious. Noelle tended to do that when she was nervous, and she couldn't help but to be a little nervous around the warrior.

* * *

Batanya followed the red-headed fairy, staying exactly three-feet behind her, the perfect distance if the woman turned out to be a foe. The Britlingen knew that she could have her sword out and into the body of the fairy in less than half a second—if need be.

Oh—it wasn't that Batanya thought the fairy, Noelle, was a threat to her. It was just that she liked to be prepared for anything.

The Britlingen could sense half a dozen other beings, in addition to Noelle, in the building: one other fairy, one demon, and four vampires. Likely, all but the oldest vampire were other Handmaidens.

The oldest, of course, was the one who had summoned her.

"Go up," Noelle said good-naturedly, as they came to a staircase. "My mistress is waiting."

Batanya did as requested and then followed her sense of smell to the end of a long corridor and into a large room, which held the most powerful being in the building—one even more powerful than the Britlingen herself.

"You are annoyed to have been called here, but curious," came a somewhat amused-sounding female voice from behind a column of opaque fabric hanging from the ceiling to the floor in order to create a smaller chamber in the center of the room.

The magic was the thickest there.

"I am not inclined to be away from the one I have sworn to protect," Batanya said stiffly as she passed through the fabric in order to face the shrouded figure of the Ancient Pythoness.

"Yes. That is why I sent Noelle to collect you. She would have known immediately if you were enraged about being summoned here—rather than simply annoyed. If angry, that might have led to some," she paused, "trouble."

"Trouble," Batanya said evenly. "As a seer, wouldn't you know my intentions better than your empath?"

The Ancient Pythoness cackled. "You'd think so. But my visions often tell of so many possible futures that it is difficult to keep them straight. Indeed, in one of them, you came here bent upon killing me, thinking that I intended ill-will to the one under your protection. Of course, I do not. And—thankfully—that vision was offset by many others, making the chance of inviting you here well-taken."

"I did consider the possibility that you meant to harm my charge," Batanya stated.

"That is why I had several of my Handmaidens at the ready," the vampiress returned matter-of-factly. "However, it would have been difficult to subdue someone such as yourself—without doing you permanent harm."

The Britlingen's eyebrow lifted. "You think the ones you brought would have been enough?"

Again, the vampiress cackled. "Along with me—yes. But only _just_ enough."

The room was quiet for a moment as the two contemplated what could have been before settling back into the much calmer moment that had come to pass.

"Why did you have Cataliades arrange for this meeting?" Batanya asked, cutting to the chase.

"Tomorrow night, Sookie Stackhouse will find herself in danger—several times," the vampiress informed, sitting forward. "And—in three instances—she will be _very_ close to death."

"When? From whom?" Batanya snarled.

"I will freely tell you all that I have seen as well as the differences in what may come to pass," the Ancient Pythoness responded. "And then I will ask you to do something which will go against all that you are."

"What will you ask?" the Britlingen asked.

"I will ask you to hold back from protecting Sookie Stackhouse from the one who would harm her the most, especially when it seems as if the one who loves her the most is about to kill her."

* * *

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 4:45 a.m.**

The privacy spell around this dwelling is extremely thick," Rasul said to Jude Hensley, the Were who'd been sent to take over surveillance of Andre's safehouse.

"I can sense that," Jude said.

Rasul looked at the Were. Though unassuming in stature compared to many on Queen Sophie-Anne's security force, Jude was the best two-natured tracker in Area 1. And Rasul had seen him take on Weres much larger than himself—and hold up well, even if he could not outright defeat them. More importantly, Jude had an eye for detail; simply put, he noticed things others did not, which made him perfect for surveillance.

Most importantly, Rasul trusted him. And—as a bonus—he was familiar with Bill Compton—and his scent.

"Are you sure that there are vampires inside?" the Were asked.

"Not 100%, though I believe so," Rasul responded honestly. "I was making a report at the palace when three vampires returned here, based on the freshness of their scents outside of the residence. I am not sure if they are currently inside or if they came and left again."

"One of them is Compton?" Jude asked with distaste.

Rasul nodded. "The magic surrounding the home has prevented me from seeing or hearing anything." The vampire shook his head with frustration. "Right down to whether the lights are on or if the pipes have been in use, I sense nothing!"

"Andre's concealment techniques have gotten better," Jude commented.

"Yes," Rasul agreed sullenly.

Jude smirked at one of the only vampires he actually considered a friend. "Do not worry. I'm sure your _failure_ to sense anything is no reflection upon _you_."

"Thanks," the vampire scoffed, though he knew the Were was joking. "You know who to call if there is anything to report?" Rasul half-stated and half-asked. "I will be back as quickly after sundown as I can. If Bill leaves before I get here, you are to track him."

"And the others?" Jude asked.

"Prioritize Compton."

Jude nodded in understanding. "I have Lance on my speed dial if I sense that help is needed."

"Then I will see you tomorrow night," Rasul said before speeding away.

* * *

The vampire arrived at the queen's palace within five minutes and then quickly made his way inside and to the corridor where he'd already arranged to meet Wybert. The Saxon was waiting for him.

"Any activity?" Wybert asked.

"No," Rasul reported. "I do believe that Compton is still inside though. And I will return to Andre's safehouse tomorrow night to follow him if he goes anywhere."

Wybert considered for a moment. "The queen hopes that Compton will lead us to Hallow. However, if he does, it will all but prove that Andre has been working with her as well."

"Yes," Rasul agreed. "But even if they are not in league with Hallow, it is clear that Bill and Andre are up to something."

Wybert nodded. "My maker is ready to do what is needed. In the meantime, we have discovered a plot involving Arkansas, specifically Jade Flower, who has been working with Margeaux."

Rasul's eyebrow lifted meaningfully.

Wybert chuckled. "Yes. I recall that you warned us against trusting her, and for that reason, she was never involved in anything too vital, but she has monitored the video feeds in the palace from time to time, so she is aware of the gaps in the video feeds as well as some of the queen's routines. The telepath learned of Jade's plot, however."

"Her plot to do what?" Rasul asked.

"Assassinate the queen," Wybert growled.

Rasul's fangs clicked downward automatically.

"Your loyalty is heartening to see," the Saxon commented. "However, we are not planning to kill her and her confederates tonight, so you can put those away."

Rasul nodded; the sound of his fangs retracting soon followed. "What can I do?"

"Nothing in regards to Jade. The queen wants you to surveil Compton tomorrow night as planned. Before dawn, however, she desires that you coordinate with Northman's subject, Molly. She wants for Molly to be able to manipulate or shut down various camera feeds—if need be—by tomorrow night."

"And she doesn't trust Andre to do that if required?"

"She doesn't," Wybert said flatly. "Disrupting the feeds might not be needed, but my maker wants the capability. She also wants to make sure that Margeaux does _not_ have the ability to fuck with the feeds."

Rasul nodded, and a smile brushed his lips.

Wybert chuckled. "You were tasked with this because—other than Andre—you know the most about the system. So set aside your crush on the little computer geek, Romeo."

Rasul smirked. "I'll make sure we get the job done. But—remember—Andre kept much of the system's inner workings from me."

"I know," Wybert commented. "And that was by the queen's design. But now that she knows Andre has created back doors into the system that she'd not been aware of, she has instructed me to tell you to circumvent him—however is needed. Understand?"

Rasul nodded. "I do. With Molly working on it, I am certain it will not take long. She is," he paused, "very good at what she does."

Wybert nodded. "Help her until dawn, but be out of here right at sundown to track Compton."

"Understood," Rasul said, jetting away toward the tunnel leading to the Queen's guesthouse, which the Area 5 group was using, even as he texted Molly. She was waiting for him at the door of the tunnel, which led into a large living room area, which then branched off to other rooms and hallways. Immediately, he could smell the scent of thick protective magic.

"Hi," Molly said a little shyly. "Uh—good morning."

Rasul smiled at her. Her youth in vampirism was clear from the fact that she still called the a.m. hours of darkness "morning." Most vampires, when not addressing humans, generally called the hours right before sun-up "late night" hours.

"Hello, Molly Jolly," he said with a charming smile.

She grinned as if both embarrassed and pleased by his greeting.

He, in turn, was pleased by her reaction.

"I am here to speak with you about a task the queen would like for you to accomplish by dawn."

Molly looked toward the door that led to the master bedroom suite in the guesthouse. She wondered if she should get Eric before listening to what Rasul had to say.

"Do _not_ contemplate it," Thalia said from where she sat in the living room. Ostensibly, she was watching the 24-hour news. In actuality, she was guarding the room where the one under her protection was sleeping with their boss. Of course, Molly was not naïve enough to believe that sleeping was all that Eric and Sookie had been doing.

"What does the queen want of Molly?" Thalia asked with authority—and just enough threat to compel Rasul to respond immediately, even though Thalia already knew that his ultimate loyalties lay with Eric.

"She wants me to work with Molly on the palace's surveillance. She wants to be able to loop feeds—or simply cut them—if a need arises for it."

Molly giggled cutely even as Thalia snorted, rolled her eyes, and began to seemingly watch television again.

"What?" Rasul asked.

"I can already do all that!" Molly responded. "That stuff's easy peasy."

Rasul chuckled. "Oh."

"Wanna see?" Molly asked coyly, biting her lower lip. "Um—my main computer system is set up in my room. The laptops out here just monitor everything."

"Well—Wybert might need a thorough report," Rasul said with a glint in his eyes. "And I _was_ instructed to help—if needed—until dawn."

"Thalia? Do you—uh—need me to stay out here? To help with the guarding? Or—uh—to monitor the—uh—tunnel monitor?" Molly asked, clearly a little flustered.

"No," the elder vampiress stated. "You may go fuck Rasul under the guise of showing him your computers."

"Thalia!" Molly gasped, even as Rasul chuckled.

The younger vampiress looked horrified, but then seemed to make a decision. She looked squarely at Rasul. "Fine! Are you in?"

The dashing Middle Eastern vampire smirked. "Not yet, but I would like to be, Molly Jolly," he said suggestively.

Thalia snorted—yet again.

"Well, then!" Molly said, ignoring Thalia and grabbing Rasul's hand. "Let me show you my system!"

* * *

 **A/N: So this is a much more light-hearted chapter. It acts as a sort of "breather" as nighttime in the story comes to an end. Noelle and Jude are new creations for me; I hope you like them. The other characters in this chapter—Batanya, the A.P., Rasul, Thalia, and Molly—represent some of my favorite books/show characters that never got utilized enough (IMO). It was fun to write this chapter—and to give Molly and Rasul a little fun time.**

 **I hope that you will comment if you have the time and inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	32. Chapter 31: The Meanest Girl in Town

**Chapter 31: The Meanest Girl in Town**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 7:45 p.m.**

Jennifer Cater sat perfectly still as she waited for her king to emerge from his bedroom into the common living area that was being shared by the three highest-ranking vampires of Arkansas.

Jennifer's stillness did not come easily to her, however. Not when Jade Flower was in the room as well—sitting across from her and dissecting her with her gaze.

As always, Jade seemed very ready, extremely willing, and most-definitely able to kill Jennifer in the next second. The younger vampiress had learned to deal with Jade's derision as best as she could; however, if Jennifer had regarded Peter any less than she did, she would have left Arkansas within nights of meeting Jade. She didn't, after all, have a death wish!

She'd stayed in Arkansas, however—because Peter deserved to have someone watching his back. Someone who was less "Jade-like."

Oh—it wasn't as if Jade was disloyal; indeed, Jennifer had never witnessed her doing anything to undermine Peter once the king had made up his mind about an issue. However, there was always something that Jennifer sensed underneath Jade's obedience when she had to go along with one of their king's policies that she did not agree with. That "something" was difficult to describe, though Jennifer had tried to do so for the king, whom she had wanted to warn about her intuition regarding the Asian vampiress. The best Jennifer had been able to do was to describe Jade's seemingly conciliatory demeanor like an hourglass—slowly losing its sand one tiny pebble at a time.

Peter had been amused by the description. He'd even promised to keep an eye on Jade. But he hadn't cut her loose.

As for the beautiful, but deadly Asian vampiress, she was looking straight at Jennifer—likely imagining what it would be like to shove a blade straight through her. Jennifer doubled her efforts to _not_ make a single move—to not show Jade an ounce of weakness. Jade Flower might be stronger and deadlier than she was, but that didn't mean that Jennifer would _ever_ be one to cow down to her!

Of course, that fact seemed to make Jade hate her even more.

Jennifer felt a bit of relief as she heard Peter curse loudly at his tie. No matter how many years he'd been required to wear formal attire and no matter how dexterous he was when it came to wielding his Bowie-knife, he was a disaster tying a Windsor knot or a bowtie. Jennifer knew that he'd emerge from his chambers with the tie askew and that he'd ask her or Jade to fix it for him.

Actually, whoever he saw first would get the duty.

Having the excuse of Peter's imminent arrival, Jennifer rose to her feet, even as Jade did the same. The mirroring of the movement would have been uncanny if Jade did not always do it. Jennifer knew that it was just to throw her off. And it worked too! Indeed, it bothered the hell out of her!

Jennifer glanced at the wall clock. She didn't need it to know the time, but the action was a habit. It was 7:49 p.m. Peter was due to meet with Queen Sophie-Anne at 8:00 p.m., and he'd yet to tell her and Jade his decision about his course of action regarding the marriage contract. As a loyal lieutenant, Jennifer was ready to do whatever her king asked of her; looking at Jade, she couldn't help but to wonder if her commitment would be as strong—if the king did not opt for her plan to take over Louisiana.

In truth, Jennifer didn't think there was a chance in hell of that happening! Peter was too damned smart to take such a risk! Killing the queen might be easy enough. But if Louisiana's entire court and sheriff-structure were not eliminated as well, Peter would face retribution. Plus, most importantly, Peter had never even hinted about wanting to take over Louisiana. That was Jade's scheme—and her ambition.

As expected, Peter had given up on his tie and came into the room with it undone. He glanced at Jennifer first, but then called Jade over to him.

Jennifer noted the unusualness of that seemingly unimportant choice.

"Jade, come fix this little bastard," Peter said, thumping one end of his tie with his thumb.

Jade nodded and stepped in front of him to complete the task. In less than ten seconds, a perfect Windsor knot stood at his neck.

When she went to move away, he grabbed her hand—though his movement was not an aggressive or a harsh one.

"I have decided to marry Sophie-Anne; I believe the relationship will be mutually beneficial," he informed her in a voice so low that Jennifer almost didn't hear him.

The younger vampiress knew her king well enough to know that he was telling Jade in such a "private" way as a sign of his respect for her—and of the value he placed on her opinions, even when he wasn't following one of them.

Jade nodded her head in understanding. She'd clearly not been surprised by his decision, though she was clearly not pleased with it either.

Peter gave her a single nod before letting her go. "Have you all seen the revisions to tonight's agenda that the queen's day-woman sent around?"

"Yes," Jennifer responded, even as Jade nodded.

Jennifer read the schedule she'd received off of her phone. "9:00-10:00 p.m.—final contract negotiations in the queen's office. 11:20-11:30 p.m.—meet the queen (you from the north entrance, her from the south) in the ballroom for the official announcement of the betrothal and the signing of the contract with dignitaries present. 11:55 p.m.—meet the queen in the parlor off to the side of the ballroom so that you and the queen can reenter the ballroom at midnight in full regalia."

Peter smirked. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Jennifer chuckled. "You have been asked to wear your royal robes to the contract signing as well?"

"Not that," Peter growled a little.

"The official marriage time and date is to be determined during the 9:00 meeting?" Jennifer joked, even as Jade remained stoically silent.

"Not that," the king grinned.

"I think I have gone over everything of importance," Jennifer smirked. " _Unless_ you are referring to your 8:00 p.m. appointment in the queen's private chambers."

Peter chuckled. "Yes. That is _exactly_ what I'm referrin' to. What was it called on the agenda again?"

Jennifer rolled her eyes and read, "Private negotiations between monarchs."

Peter winked at the two vampiresses. "Indeed. It is heartening to see that Sophie-Anne has not changed _that_ aspect of our evening."

Jennifer shook her head fondly. Her king could be quite boyish at times.

"Well! I think I'll go see if I can talk my future bride into sharing a meal!" he enthused.

Jennifer smiled and nodded at him, even as she watched Jade out of her peripheral vision.

"Jen, will you do me a favor and make sure that Foster has my tux and my damned robe prepared by 10:30 p.m.? Tell him I'll need to start gettin' dressed for the formal signing and—of course—the party by 11:00 p.m."

"Shall I have him polish your crown too, Your Majesty?" Jennifer asked playfully.

Peter didn't look too happy about that thought, but nodded in reluctant agreement. "Wearing a suit is one thing; wearing a tux and that garish robe makes me feel like a goddamned circus monkey."

Jennifer chuckled. "You do fill a tuxedo out nicely, Your Majesty. And don't forget the crown."

"Okay—then—a _gilded_ circus monkey." Peter rolled his eyes at his Second Lieutenant, even though he knew that she was being sincere about his form in a tux. As a matter of fact, he knew himself to be quite desirable to many women—inside of or out of a tuxedo—despite his rough-around-the-edges looks and manners. But he still didn't like wearing any outfit that came in more than three pieces. Hell! During his human life, socks had even annoyed him, though they'd been necessary for avoiding trench-foot and blisters with the rough boots Peter had worn.

Nowadays, he'd take the blisters—over the damned crown!

"Well, I've gotta queen to fuck!" Peter rallied as he went to the door of the suite and opened it. Jacob, his favorite vampire guard was waiting for him.

Peter turned back to his lieutenants. "Unless y'all hear otherwise, meet me outside of the queen's office at 9:00 p.m. And make sure Alcander looks over the current contract draft with his fine-toothed comb. The queen's got her lawyer, Desmond Cataliades, coming to the meetin' too."

"I believe Alcander Kiriakidis is a cousin to Cataliades," Jade said with caution in her tone.

"But I have _our_ demon's oath of service—bound in magic," Peter reminded. "Even if Alcander and Cataliades were twins, there would be no potential conflict of interest," he added firmly, quickly putting to an end any additional controversy Jade might try to manufacture regarding the marriage contract.

"We will be at the queen's office with Alcander at 9:00 p.m. sharp," Jennifer said, breaking the moment's worth of tension that had sprung up between the king and Jade.

"See you then," Peter responded—after one more sharp look at Jade. His look warned her that his decision was final and that she'd better fucking be on board!

Jade gave him a little nod, and he smiled at her before closing the door behind him.

Not wanting to stay in any room where Jade was steaming, Jennifer quickly took out her phone and dialed Peter's demon lawyer. "Alcander," she said as soon as he answered, even as she went to the door, "I'll be at your room in two minutes to review the contract." She paused at the door after she'd opened it. "Would you like to accompany me to meet with Alcander?" she asked Jade, hoping against hope that the vampiress would decline the offer.

"I have read the contract," Jade said evenly. "I do not need the demon to explain it to me."

"I will see you at 9:00 then," Jennifer said, ignoring the insult. With a nod to her superior, she left—thankful to be away from Jade.

* * *

As soon as Jennifer was gone, the Asian vampiress took out her own phone and called Margeaux, a spy she'd placed into Queen Sophie-Anne's court years before—a spy that Peter had no idea about.

"Yes?" Margeaux answered.

"Tonight—after the final contract negotiation," Jade said simply before hanging up.

Standing perfectly still, Jade went over all of her plans in her mind. Margeaux had inserted a virus into the surveillance system that would loop all the camera feeds along the hallways that Jade and her fellow assassins would need to travel in order to gather weapons, kill the queen, and then take out all of her children.

Had Peter been willing to go along with her plan, Jade would have had other Arkansas vampires to help her deal with ancillary issues such as Eric Northman and his progeny, who could make trouble if the Sheriff of Area 5 decided to try to avenge his fallen queen.

Of course, ideally, Northman would be just as much in the dark about the perpetrators of the queen's death as everyone else would be.

However, if he proved too clever for his own good, he would come after Peter, believing him to be the mastermind of the assassination.

Jade closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if it might not just be better to let Northman have her king. However, she dismissed that thought after only a few seconds.

No—it would be best to leave the king blameless. Moreover, Jade knew that she would be able to convince Peter that she'd had nothing to do with the queen's death either—even if the coincidence of her dying right after Jade had floated that very idea was at the forefront of his mind.

Her king trusted her. And she knew him well enough to know that he would not publicly expose her previous suggestions unless he had proof that she'd followed through with them.

Jade shook her head. Blind trust was a weakness that Peter had always had when it came to her. Misplaced loyalty to her would now be another.

She knew that she could exploit both of these weaknesses—just as she knew that he would have kept her own loyalty and her trust, _if_ he had proven to be a stronger monarch.

Still—she would protect him until she was ready to depose him.

And that left her with her previous problem: If Northman suspected Peter was behind Sophie-Anne's death, he would seek vengeance.

"If he does, I will kill him," she said to herself.

She brought her hand to where her _yubi-bo_ was strapped securely to her thigh. She rested her fingers against the weapon, hating the silk of her dress that prevented her from touching it directly.

How many had it bludgeoned?

How many had it staked?

How many would it kill that very night? Though there would be others with her, she hoped to, at least, allow it to taste the blood of the queen and her eldest child.

However, the prospect of using it to kill the Viking was almost irresistible. Indeed, a part of her hoped that the supposedly "great" warrior decided to act in retribution for his queen.

She spent a few moments visualizing their fight. Eric Northman was larger than she was, and he was a Norseman, weaned on large, cumbersome weapons. He would likely fight in a rather brutish way in order to take advantage of his size. Her lips curved upward as she reviewed all of the ways that she had defeated larger opponents before. Of course, he was older than she was. And he was more adept than most—if not all—of the people she'd faced in open combat before.

She had killed older vampires than Eric Northman; however, she'd done so using her more clandestine skills—her guile and seductive prowess.

There would be no time to seduce the Viking.

Still, Jade was confident, for everything thus far in her long existence had been preparing her for such battles as the one she might face against Northman. Plus, she would have Margeaux to keep track of him—so she would know if he was coming.

Of course, a fight with Northman would indicate that Jade's actions had not been as secretive as she wanted them to be; they would signal that there was some kind of _tangible_ evidence that connected the Arkansas vampires to the queen's death. And that would not be best—given Jade's long-game to assure Peter's Council-approved place on both the Louisiana and Arkansas thrones before eventually introducing him to the concept of linking with Freyda of Oklahoma. Thus—even though a large part of Jade was curious to test herself against Northman, it would be better if the Viking remained clueless about who killed his queen and her brood.

"So he will," Jade said confidently to herself, convinced that her plan would work out just as she desired and that her king would fall in line with her desires when it did.

And—if she was lucky—she would have the opportunity to face Northman in the future. She smiled to herself. Indeed, she was certain that Peter would convince Northman to keep his post as Area 5 sheriff.

Given their personalities, Jade figured that it wouldn't take Peter and Northman long to become friendly. For her part, Jade would gain Northman's trust, just as she'd done with her king.

Eventually, she would take out both of them—on _her_ terms. And then her allegiance could shift to an ambitious queen who would be quite malleable to Jade's influence, Freyda of Oklahoma.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi all! I hope that you enjoyed this week's chapter. I wanted to check back in with the Arkansas vamps. I had a PM from a reader that was a bit upset that I was presenting Peter so OOC. I know I'm going well away from the brief book portrayal with him, but—remember—I do take license to change anything, including characterizations, after I pick up a story from a moment in the book. In this case, everything up to the trunk scene occurred just as it did in the books. But everything after it is new. For me, it's much more fun when I get to play with the characterizations a bit. Still, I hope not many of you are upset with my tinkering.**

 **Please leave a comment if you have the time and/or inclination. Comments will be like mini-rewards for me this week (I've got a tough work-week coming). So anything would be awesome.**

 **Until next week,**

 **Kat**


	33. Chapter 32: Baby What You Want Me to Do

**Chapter 32: Baby What You Want Me to Do**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 8:01 p.m.**

"I must admit that I expected a more _private_ meeting the first time I entered your boudoir, Your Majesty," Peter Threadgill said to Sophie-Anne as Sigebert led him and his most trusted guard, Jacob, inside the queen's private chambers. A large, velvet-clad bed dominated one side of the large room. The other side was populated by a roaring fireplace and a seating area large enough for ten people. However, none of the nine people waiting in the room were sitting.

Quickly, the Arkansas king gauged the expressions of the five-plus millennia-worth of vampires who now surrounded him: the queen, Andre, Wybert, Sigebert, Eric Northman, Thalia, Pamela Ravenscroft, and another younger vampire the king did not recognize.

The queen looked curious, more than anything else—as if she were waiting for a long-promised answer. Andre looked impatient—and frustrated. Wybert, Sigebert, and Thalia looked expressionless. Pamela looked bored. The youngest vampire in the room was biting her lip as if she were the one on the chopping block. But it was Northman's expression that most steadied Peter. The Viking was giving him a look of—for lack of a better word— _approval_.

Maybe even respect.

And that—more than anything else—helped Peter to understand that he'd not been brought into that room so that he could be ambushed.

There were also two non-vampires present: a female Were and a human. Peter recognized the human as a woman who'd been in the meeting the night before: Susanna Saunders; however, she smelled _much_ different than she had before.

The King of Arkansas looked at her and then at Eric, his eyes asking a question about the pretty human who happened to smell _heavily_ of the Viking—and much sweeter than the night before, too!

Eric's own eyes went to Jacob, Peter's guard who was clearly also taking in the potentially threatening force. However, Jacob's read of the room was quite different from his king's; his guard was clearly sensing that his monarch had been led into a trap.

Peter saw that Jacob's hand was hovering just over his weapon of choice, a specially-crafted gun that fired silver bullets with wooden cores. The bullets were ingenious, actually. If a vampire were shot in the heart by the bullet, he or she would not die until the silver dissolved into the vampire's system, leaving only the wood to finally kill the vampire. Of course, if the bullet were removed in time, the vampire would be spared, though the healing would take time.

And be excruciating.

Needless to say, Jacob had conducted many effective questionings because of his favored weapon—and its ability to encourage _quick_ confessions.

However, Peter knew that now was _definitely_ not the time for Jacob to unholster his gun. And—even if he could do so before he was beset by vampires—he'd never be fast enough to shoot a single bullet.

"Don't," Eric warned the guard, obviously reading the situation accurately as well.

"Majesty?" Jacob asked.

Peter shook his head slightly as he noted that his guard's fingers were just touching the handle of his gun.

"Jacob, I think it's time for you to go," Peter said firmly.

"Majesty?" the guard repeated with confusion.

"I'll be fine," the Arkansas king said confidently.

"But . . . ," Jacob started.

"These folks wanna talk to me, Jacob. If they had other plans, we'd both be dead by now," the king stated with the certainty of an individual who was an expert at knowing when his ass was on the line.

Eric nodded slightly, giving Peter all the assurance that he needed.

"Post yourself right outside the queen's apartment," the king ordered his guard. "And—if _anyone_ asks—I'm fucking the queen in here— _well_!" he emphasized. "And there is nothing wrong. Understood?"

Jacob nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"And Sophie-Anne and I are in here _alone_ ," the king added.

Jacob nodded again.

"Sigebert," Sophie-Anne said to one of her Saxon children, "go with Peter's guard. Anyone would find it odd if you were not on duty with Jacob here—given what Peter and I are supposedly up to."

Sigebert nodded to his queen and quickly led Jacob out of the door.

For a moment, everyone in the room was quiet.

"Was Jade correct?" Peter finally asked.

"Correct about what?" Sophie-Anne responded with a question of her own.

"She insisted that all of this marriage negotiation stuff was a plot to get me vulnerable, to kill me, and then to take my throne," the king conveyed as if he were talking about the weather, even as he took a seat in an oversized chair. His body language read as completely relaxed.

His mind, however, was not. He was currently processing everything going on around him; but more than anything, he was curious.

"Jade Flower is _not_ correct," the queen emphasized as she took a place on the couch across from Peter's chair. Not one else sat.

Sophie-Anne continued, "My interest in linking our states is sincere. However, we have learned of a plot to take my life—involving _your_ vampires." She sat forward a little. "Specifically, Miss Flower."

Peter crossed his legs and sat back further into his chair; the holder for the Bowie knife he kept strapped to his ankle became visible, though it was clear that the king did not intend to use it—at least, not at the moment. He folded his hands behind his head, leaning back even more.

"It is possible that you heard Jade speaking about her theories of _your_ duplicity, Sophie-Anne. I freely admit that she floated the idea of taking out you and your children just last night," Peter informed.

Andre's fangs clicked down, but a look from his maker told him to stay still and quiet.

The king continued. "She felt that you had a hidden agenda and wanted to strike first. One cannot blame a Lieutenant for wishing to protect her king. However, ultimately, I made the decision that I would trust you. And Jade has accepted that. There is no plot, Sophie-Anne. There was only a suggestion on her part, which I have denied."

Sophie-Anne looked at Susanna Saunders; the sweet-smelling human shook her head.

The king shifted his attention to her as well. "I was a hunter and a trapper—as my profession—when I was a human; of course, that was before I joined up with the army and became a scout and a spy for them, Ms. Saunders. So—needless to say—I'd developed my senses even before I was turned vampire. They are now _quite_ honed." He looked from Eric to her again. "You are _bonded_ with Sheriff Northman, which should be impossible, given the fact that—only last night—you had no vampire blood inside of you. Indeed, your scent has changed almost entirely—to include both him and," he paused, "something else. Something sweet."

Eric took the woman's hand protectively—and possessively. "Your Majesty, we are inclined to inform you that Susanna Saunders was just a creation of ours to keep my bonded's name from being too public, too soon."

"So—who do I have the pleasure of meeting?" Peter asked with a smirk.

The woman took a deep breath. "Sookie Stackhouse, Your Majesty."

Peter looked at her closely. "And _what_ are you, Ms. Stackhouse?"

The woman's lips turned upwards into a slight smile.

"Something about my question amuses you," Peter stated with interest.

"Just that I've been asked it a lot, Your Majesty. And—uh—this is the first time I'm not gonna reply to it in a way that hides the real answer." She took another deep breath. "I'm a telepath, Sir. And I'm bonded to Sheriff Northman—as you can clearly tell. Yesterday and earlier today while I was working, I wore a potion that covered up all Supernatural scents in me, but—since I'm gonna be offerin' the evidence against Jade—you needed to know about me."

"Working," Peter said slowly, as if chewing the word. "And what exactly does your work entail, Ms. Stackhouse."

"Call me Sookie, Sir," the woman said with a Southern charm that took the king back to his mother's dinner table where she struggled—and more than often failed—to teach her sons manners.

"Alright. Then, Sookie," the king acknowledged.

"My work is to read human and two-natured minds. I can't read vampires, so don't worry about that. The queen employed me to read everything in any Arkansas mind that I could—in order to understand your motives for the marriage arrangement."

Peter looked at Sophie-Anne, one of his eyebrows lifted. "I'd lament about there being so little trust in the world if I wouldn't have used such an asset in just the same way. But are you sure that she cannot hear vampires?"

"Quite," Sophie-Anne stated.

The king took in that information and then looked back at Sookie. "So—you are gonna try to convince me that my lieutenant—one who has been loyal to me since I took over Arkansas almost two decades ago—has ideas about a takeover that she's not shared with me—aren't you?"

"I'm sorry, but yes, Your Majesty," Sookie said looking truly sorrowful.

The King had to work hard not to show his surprise—at both the possibility that Jade was disloyal and at the young human's sincere compassion.

"You can call me Peter," he told her after a few moments. "I actually despise the ceremonial trappings of bein' a king."

"Oh—uh—thanks," Sookie stammered. Again, she took a deep breath. "I heard Jade's plans from a couple of two-natured people. The main one was a were-badger."

"Harley," the king supplied. "He and Jade are lovers," he added matter-of-factly.

Sookie nodded and blushed a little. "I got that part from his head, too."

"Okay, then, tell me what Harley was thinking," the king requested.

"Jade has four vampires working with her: three that you brought from Arkansas and one spy in Sophie-Anne's court. The one here is Margeaux."

Peter nodded slowly. "Margeaux was in Arkansas when I overthrew the previous king," he recalled. "She opted to leave the state when I offered everyone the choice of declaring fealty or moving on."

Sophie-Anne nodded. "And she has been in New Orleans ever since. She's been innocuous, but apparently she is Jade's creature."

Peter frowned but then nodded. "Jade believes it prudent to insert spies in the courts of our neighbors."

"That is not a rare belief," the queen smirked.

"Who?" Peter asked, intrigued by which of his vampires might be on Sophie-Anne's payroll.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Sophie-Anne asked playfully.

The king chuckled, even as the telepath shook her head at the fact that the two could be so blasé about spies.

"So—who are the three Arkansas vampires working with Jade?" he asked nonchalantly—as if a third of the vampires he'd brought with him weren't being accused of having their own agendas.

"I don't know all of them. Harley only thought of two of them, and—even with them—he was only speculating about the 'whos.' Jade never told him directly," Sookie relayed. "He doesn't think she trusts him 100%, though he's not too upset that she's using him."

Peter chuckled a bit. "What are his speculations?"

"He thinks it's David and Jasmine."

Peter frowned. "I'd thought them loyal."

"Perhaps Jade has told them that they are doing _your_ bidding, Your Majesty," Wybert said diplomatically.

"Perhaps," Peter said. The king was thoughtful for a moment, and the rest of those in the room let him think. "So—what would you have me do, Sophie-Anne? You clearly did not bring me here to fuck me—much to my disappointment. Do you want me to take my contingent and leave?"

"And what would happen if you did that?" the queen asked. "What would that mean to our potential alliance?"

Peter sighed. "You tell me. I can say only what _I_ would do."

"And what would _you_ do?" Sophie-Anne inquired.

"I'd have everyone packed up and out of here within the hour—citing irreconcilable differences between you and me. Once in Arkansas, I'd have Jade, Harley, David, and Jasmine chained. And then I'd question them. Harley would break first. Then David. Then Jasmine. Once they did, I could find out the other vampire involved. Then I would break him or her as well."

"And Jade?" the queen asked.

Peter sighed and shook his head. "It's hard to tell. She has her own kind of honor, and I thought I had her loyalty. But—if what your telepath is telling me is true—she has been going around me. She may believe that she is doing things in my best interest. She may even be misguided enough to believe that I _want_ her to be doing those kinds of things," he growled. "She may have gotten it into her head that I'm just not telling her what I really want because that would make my hands dirty. However, that means she finds me a fucking imbecile—unable to do my own bidding or know my own fucking mind!" he finished angrily.

The king caught a momentarily guilty look from Andre and glanced at him for a moment.

The queen seemed to ignore the change of focus from Peter. "And if you found out that you had Jade's loyalty, but that she was _still_ working to circumvent your spoken wishes—and, therefore, your authority—what would you do to her?" she asked with interest.

Peter looked back at Sophie-Anne. Though he couldn't be certain, it seemed as if her question was loaded with meaning and that not all of it applied to his situation with Jade.

The king took another moment to contemplate as he got his temper in check. "Jade has served me well. I am not dimwitted enough to have missed the fact that her mere presence in my state has likely stopped several individuals from trying to attack me. However, she swore fealty to me, and I do not owe her _anything_ if her obedience is no longer mine. With some vampires, I could let them go—banish them from Arkansas—if their actions were more misguided than treacherous. However, banishment would be seen as unforgiveable to someone like Jade. She would use every trick in her large repertoire and all of her knowledge of my homes and resting places to end me. So—if young Sookie is correct—I cannot let Jade live—if I want to live myself."

"You seem saddened by that realization," Sophie-Anne observed softly.

The king did not respond to her; instead, he looked at Sookie, again taking in her sincere expression. And again, he took in Northman's countenance as well. The Viking looked proud—but not of the king or the queen in the room. He was proud of the woman by his side.

"I am inclined to believe you, Sookie," Peter said, his expression dark. "However, I still intend to confirm everything you are telling me—in my own way," He tapped his Bowie knife.

The telepath gulped. "That's fine."

The king looked back at Sophie-Anne, finally addressing her earlier comment. "I _am_ saddened. I like Jade; I especially liked the fact that she would hold nothing back when she disagreed with me." He scoffed. "Actually, it seems like she _did_ hold things back."

"After you have dealt with Jade, what will you do?" the queen asked. "Will you pursue me again?"

Peter looked at the queen with a bit of surprise. "You'd still consider a match?"

"I would," Sophie-Anne responded with certainty.

Peter smirked. "Am I _that_ good of a catch in your eyes?"

The queen giggled. "Don't get too damned full of yourself, Threadgill. I'm afraid that my continued interest in you will come with a condition."

"I thought it might," the king looked at her with interest.

"Sookie?" Sophie-Anne said, catching the telepath's attention. "Tell him what we know of Jade's plan."

"Uh—sure—Your Majesty. I mean, Your Majesties," Sookie responded nervously. "Well, after y'all finish the final negotiations later tonight—if you sign the betrothal contract—then Jade knows that you'll go immediately back to your room," she said, looking at the king.

"How does she know that?" Peter asked.

"It's—uh—your habit to want to look over anything you've just signed; plus, you'll wanna get ready for the ball. Jade's heard from Margeaux that the queen will likely consult with her children for ten or fifteen minutes, before sending Sigebert and Hadley on ahead to the residential apartment. That's sort of the general practice when Sophie-Anne conducts important business."

"Correct," Sophie-Anne supplied when Sookie glanced in her direction.

The telepath continued. "Meanwhile, Jade and her helpers will gather some silver nets and weapons that were hidden in camera-dead zones by Harley. Then, they'll get into position. Harley's not positive, but from what he can gather, Margeaux's gonna contact Jade when Hadley and Sigebert leave the queen's office."

"So Jade has been told that there are gaps in the security feeds, and she plans to use them to her advantage in order to create an ambush?" Peter asked.

"Yes," Sookie answered.

"Not that she'd need them," Molly piped up.

Peter looked at the youngest vampire in the room with interest, even as she looked like she wanted to disappear into the carpet for her _faux pas_ of speaking out of turn in a room that held two monarchs. "And who are you?"

The vampire did an awkward looking curtsy, but it was Northman who spoke. "This is Molly; she is a vampire in my retinue and has discovered an issue in the surveillance system."

Peter noted how, in that moment, Eric and Sophie-Anne both glanced at Andre, who seemed quite uncomfortable.

"Flaw?" Peter asked.

"Someone's set things up with the cameras so that they can take over and loop certain footage," Molly said timidly.

Peter couldn't help but to notice that Andre was seething. "What is Northman's baby vampire doing in my system?" he asked angrily—and nervously.

"I let her in so that she could better monitor and control the surveillance in the guesthouse and the tunnel," Sophie-Anne responded evenly.

"Why not ask me? Consult with me?" Andre asked, affronted.

Sophie-Anne gave her eldest child a sharp look. "I'd suggest you contemplate my reasons—while Peter and I finish our meeting. Afterwards, I will listen to what you have come up with."

If he'd still been a human, Peter knew that he would have shivered at the icy temperature of Sophie-Anne's tone toward her eldest child.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he muttered, drawing the queen's attention back to him.

"I hope you are never there," she said sincerely.

"So—despite having brought a potential assassin into your midst—I am not there yet?" Peter asked, his tone half-appreciation and half-smugness.

He'd never had to work hard to achieve that seemingly impossible mixture.

Sophie-Anne shook her head fondly. "You aren't exactly on my good side yet either."

Peter glanced at Andre, who was looking at his maker with concern.

"How will I get on your good side, then?" the king asked.

The queen looked back at Sookie. "According to Miss Stackhouse, your lieutenant and her confederates plan to have Margeaux loop the security feeds; then, they will intercept Sigebert and Hadley before they reach the residential quarters. They intend to kill my Hadley first," she said, her voice like steel. "Then Sigebert."

"They believe that you and your other children will come rushing," Peter said with understanding.

"Yes," Sophie-Anne nodded. "And they would be right. I would be so out of my mind with rage and worry and pain that I would not think to get more guards before I rushed to see what was wrong. My remaining children would follow me—all of us, at least, partly weakened by so much loss."

"You'd be lambs running to your own slaughter," Peter observed.

"Precisely," the queen stated. "Or, at least, _likely_."

Peter looked at Andre and then Wybert, assessing the two. Depending upon how closely tied they were to their maker—and rumor had it that they were _very_ closely linked to her—both strong vampires would have a difficult time if the queen was hurting emotionally and physically. In a fair fight, the two—plus their maker—would have been more than a match for Jade and whomever she found to work with her. However, an ambush when they were not prepared could very well have worked.

Making _him_ the King of Louisiana.

Peter uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, and extended his hand. He was wily enough to know why the queen had brought him into her chambers to tell him Jade's plans. She was testing him.

And he intended to pass the test.

With a smile, she reached out to take his hand.

"I'm prepared to prove that I could be a good partner to you, Your Majesty," Peter said sincerely. "Just tell me what role you have in mind for me tonight."

"What if I asked you to kill Jade for me?" Sophie-Anne inquired.

Peter squeezed her hand. "That must depend upon whether or not I see first-hand proof of her duplicity."

"And so, you shall," the queen returned with a nod of her head.

"Perhaps, I will get to show you how good I am at poking a woman with my knife tonight—after all, then," he said suggestively.

Queen Sophie-Anne giggled. "You're incorrigible."

"I'll take that as a dare," the king roguishly replied.

* * *

 **A/N: Well—Peter's in on the plot now. And Sophie-Anne is trusting him not to warn Jade. So—what do you think? Will Peter work with our team? Or will he try to confront/reform Jade? Only time will tell. I hope you liked/understood all the intrigue in this chapter. It was a bear to write.**

 **Please leave a comment if your have the time and/or inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**

 **P.S. Sorry I'm a day late with this chapter.**


	34. Chapter 33: He'll Have to Go

**Chapter 33: He'll Have to Go**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 8:45 p.m. (a few minutes after the previous chapter ends)**

"Andre, I strongly suggest that you do _nothing_ to alter my master's plans," Bill said warningly, even as he looked at Appius somewhat pensively.

The elder had been enjoying a blowjob from Bill, even as a recently-fed Alexei took Bill from behind when Andre's phone call had interrupted the trio of their fun. Thus, Bill could tell that Appius was already annoyed.

And an annoyed Appius was never a good thing for those in his close proximity.

The plan—before the queen's eldest child called—had been to enjoy themselves until 10:00 p.m. before meeting Hallow and her people at the plantation where they'd made their temporary lair. There, plans would be solidified and Debbie Pelt prepared for deployment.

However, Andre had just thrown a large wrench into that plan.

"We cannot move forward tonight!" Andre said in a hushed voice—though all in the room could hear him over the phone. Appius was looking on with great interest and growing anger, even as Alexei pouted that their carnal pleasures had been paused.

"No," Bill said simply. "The plan will move forward _without_ alteration."

"But my queen is in danger tonight!" Andre said adamantly. "There is to be an assassination attempt! I _must_ focus _solely_ upon my queen's protection tonight! Even if the initial attempt is stopped, I don't believe that she'll be safe from Threadgill or his people. I don't trust that Arkansas bastard!" he hissed.

Appius gave a slight shake of his head.

"My master does not agree to the delay," Bill inflexibly. "We _will_ go forward with the plan—as already decided."

"No!" Andre returned sharply. "I _won't_ risk my queen! And—as much as I hate to admit it—Northman is a good asset for protecting her tonight since she intends to move forward with the ball. I will convince Northman to stay on tomorrow night as well, and you can move against him and his telepath, then."

Appius looked angry enough to explode.

"My master will have our situation resolved _tonight_ ," Bill emphasized, even as he tried to keep his own anger at a minimum, despite Andre insinuating that Sookie belonging to Eric.

"Not possible!" Andre said obstinately. "You can wait for Northman and his telepath for one more night!"

Reaching his own breaking point, Bill hissed. "She is not _his_!"

Before Andre could say more, the phone was yanked from Bill's hand.

"You dare to say 'no' and 'not possible' to me!" Appius stormed into the receiver.

"Oh—uh— _please_ ," Andre stammered, likely quivering despite the fact that he was well away from the raging vampire. Both Bill and Alexei shrank back into their seats due to the energy flowing from the elder vampire. And Alexei reached out to take his "brother's" hand for comfort.

"I meant no disrespect," Andre continued in a conciliatory tone. "It is just that I need to keep my focus on the queen tonight. Any distractions could give Threadgill the opportunity to harm her. You must understand!"

"No!" Appius returned, his voice full of malice. "I _mustn't_ do anything at your behest, boy! However, you _must_ jump whenever I tell you to jump and how high I tell you to jump _whenever_ I call upon you to do so. If you do not, then the weak King of Arkansas will be the least of your worries! I will kill your dear maker myself!"

"Please," Andre said, his voice entreating the older vampire. "I am not backing out of our plan—just delaying it."

"Desperation sounds good in your tone," Appius retorted coldly. "And you _should_ be desperate. It is now fully up to you to decide whether I will be a friend to your maker or leave this state in ruins."

"Please," Andre gasped.

"There will be _no_ delays," Appius said.

Frantic, Andre tried a different approach. "More vampires than expected from Area 5 are due to be here soon. And—uh—one of Northman's group is a computer specialist. I've learned that she can monitor all the camera feeds, bypassing even my own security protocols. I—uh—can no longer guarantee your secret entrance."

"Secrecy was your idea, boy! Not mine!" Appius growled. "In fact, I have a mind to ring the goddamned doorbell and demand what is mine in your queen's home!"

"But—uh—the ball. You were to capture Sookie and then Eric and then take them away from here!" Andre returned in a hushed whisper.

"Why would I want to leave when there is a party to be attended?" Appius asked coldly. "Are you saying I would not be welcome to it?"

"I—uh," Andre stammered.

"Are you saying that a ball would not be the perfect chance for me to meet your maker?" Appius taunted.

"It's not that we wouldn't welcome you," Andre responded carefully. "But on a different night, you could be more of the focus—as it should be. The respect—and the spotlight—would be on you only."

"I could be the focus of _all_ of tonight!" Appius warned. "You know what, Andre? I find that I am no longer certain of your loyalty. You _will_ meet me at the witch's residence at 10:30 so that I can ascertain whether or not you are worthy to remain my ally."

"But I cannot. I—uh—must be by the queen's side tonight!" Andre answered. "I must help her to defeat Jade Flower. I must protect her."

Appius growled forebodingly. "What you _must_ do is to attend to me when I wish and as I wish—if you wish for your queen to be left alive at the end of my stay in Louisiana. Be at the witch's residence at 10:30!" he yelled before hanging up the phone.

For a moment, the ancient looked almost as tired as his did angry, and Bill longed to reach out for him—to comfort him. But he didn't dare. He could sense Appius's volatility, his desire to hurt someone.

After a moment, however, the elder vampire's face returned to a more neutral expression.

"It is somewhat understandable—even admirable—that Andre has so much loyalty for his maker," Appius mused as he sat back into his chair and gestured for Alexei to move to sit upon his lap. The youngest vampire in the group quickly moved to sit with his sire. Though all three of them were still naked, Appius's embrace of Alexei was not sexual in nature. Clearly, he was seeking out the touch of his child to calm himself and the rattled young one.

"Yes. Loyalty to one's maker is paramount," Bill agreed in a soft voice.

"I do not like being crossed," the elder said firmly.

"None should cross one such as you, Master," Bill soothed.

"Andre will learn to know better," Appius said definitively. "And I will give him that chance."

"Very generous," Bill voiced.

Appius shrugged. "Andre could still be useful. Indeed, if he proves loyal to me—even as his maker is in danger—that would say a lot about how _hospitable_ he will be while we sojourn in Louisiana. I might even kill the Arkansas king tonight and hand the state to his maker if I am pleased enough. However, if I sense hesitation within Andre, I will be very unhappy indeed."

" _Very_ unhappy," the elder reiterated in almost a whisper. "Perhaps, killing someone will make me feel better!"

* * *

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 8:53 p.m.**

Vampires could not hyperventilate, but—if they could—Andre would have been doing so.

"Where did it go wrong?" he muttered to himself as he hurried toward the queen's office. It seemed like he'd been doing a lot of that so far that night—hurrying. After the meeting with Peter, he'd vamped to his chambers so that he could privately call Bill. And now he had to rush to continue the charade of the negotiations between Sophie-Anne and Peter. If he were human, he would have been out of breath; even as a vampire, however, he found himself uncharacteristically rattled.

The King of Arkansas was due in Sophie-Anne's office at 9:00 p.m. to go through the charade of final marriage negotiations, and Jade would be in the fucking room!

"Why can't we just kill her then?" he growled softly.

He scoffed. Oh, yes! It was that fucking Threadgill's fault! He wanted to see _proof_ of Jade's duplicity. And Sophie-Anne had gone along with it. After the contract was signed, everyone was going to pretend to do just as Jade expected. However, a trap would be laid for her. When Jade made her move, the king would see his undeniable proof and then work with the queen to stop his second-in-command.

If Jade—for some reason—did not act, then the king intended to question his lieutenant—with Andre present— _after_ the ball.

Meanwhile, everyone was just trusting that Threadgill wouldn't tell Jade all about the knowledge the telepath had gleaned!

"Fucking test," Andre muttered.

Indeed, he felt as if _he_ were the one being tested in that moment. If only Appius could have been reasonable! Tonight was no longer optimal for him to go through with his plan, not when the Arkansas vampires were clearly such a threat. But it seemed certain that the elder vampire would not wait even a single night to have the telepath and Northman in his grips.

Once again, Andre scoffed. Why—suddenly—had all of his careful planning come to nothing.

Bill. Fucking. Compton!

Yes—Andre knew whom to blame. _Bill_ was the one who had thought bringing Appius into the mix was such a good idea because it would ensure Eric's maximum punishment. And it still might. However, in the meantime, Andre now had to figure out how to deal with an ancient vampire who could not be made to see reason!

Andre paused for a moment as he reached the corridor outside of the queen's office. As usual, Sigebert was guarding any door that would lead to their maker.

Andre knew what he had to do, but time would be tight. He would go through the charade of the negotiations and then protect his queen from Jade. And then he had to make haste to get to Hallow's lair before 10:30 p.m.

There, in person, Appius might be convinced to see that a single night's delay was not a huge loss. Yes—Andre had been the one to initially sell the night of the Valentine's Ball as the perfect opportunity for taking the telepath from Northman. And Appius had liked the drama of it all! However, now Andre would simply have to sell a different night.

After all, couldn't Appius simply call Eric to him—at any time? Wouldn't that be easier for all? Without Eric, the telepath would be easy enough to grab. The Pelt woman wouldn't need to be a loose cannon in the situation.

Yes, Appius could be made to see reason. Then, Andre could rush back to the queen's residence in time to ensure that Threadgill and his other Arkansas vampires didn't make any other moves against Sophie-Anne that night.

He _had_ to protect her.

"You are troubled, brother," Sigebert said, his accent thicker than Wybert's. Both of the Saxons were much more intelligent than most of the world gave them credit for; however, Sigebert's greatest asset was his battle skills. Andre, generally, was the best strategist among his siblings, while Wybert was a kind of middle point between them. Sigebert was also the most emotionless of the three "brothers"; additionally, he was the least likely to question Sophie-Anne or even offer his opinion. On the other hand, Andre tended to be the most passionate and was always ready with an opinion. Again, Wybert was in the middle.

And, of course, Sophie-Anne understood her children's skills and weaknesses very well, which was why Sigebert would _always_ be her first line of defense since he was the fiercest warrior—and the coolest under pressure—out of all of those whom she'd sired.

"It is the Arkansas situation," Andre deflected Sigebert's words, before going into the office. He was surprised to see that no one else was there yet.

"Where are Wybert and Hadley? Cataliades?" he asked.

"I've asked for a delay until 9:10 for the meeting with Peter. They will come a couple of minutes before that. I wanted," the queen paused, "a moment alone with you."

"Are you considering backing out of the marriage contract?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "No. I know that disappoints you, but my decision is firm on that one."

"I still think Threadgill means to betray you. Miss Stackhouse could very well be incorrect about his not being involved," Andre said cautiously.

"I will not leave my back exposed to my enemies," Sophie-Anne returned. "You _should_ know me well enough to know that." She moved so that she was standing right in front of him.

With the gentlest of touches, she stroked his cheek. "Did you forget that I _always_ have a care for my own safety and the safety of my children? Did you forget that this state—and all of the power that comes from being queen—could be lost to me, and I would _still_ be able to go on as long as I have my family?"

"Of course, I did not forget, Your Majesty," Andre said as he leaned into the touch of his maker. "It is my job to make sure that you retain all that you have—and that you add to it."

Sophie-Anne's eyes narrowed a bit, studying her child closely. "Jade _seemed_ quite loyal to Peter—did she not? Yet she seems to believe that she knows _better_ than her own king!"

" _Solum lamia fidelissima sunt, et in illis quae facimus, fac nobis_ ," Andre recited the oft-repeated Latin saying. Translated roughly, it meant, "The only trustworthy vampires are the ones we make—and the ones that make us."

"That is not always true," Sophie-Anne said softly.

"It is where you are concerned, for you are our beloved sire," Andre vowed, though his voice wavered just a little.

"I have always thought that I could trust you more than any other." She stroked his cheek again. "I know that you love me, Andre. I feel that profoundly. Do you feel my love for you?"

"Yes, my maker," Andre gasped as Sophie-Anne let him experience all of her affection through their bond.

"I know that you wish to protect me."

"I _need_ to," he said.

She nodded and smiled slightly. "You feel the need, my child, and I am honored by your devotion. But you must have _no_ doubt that I can protect myself _and_ you. I want to protect you, too."

"I know," he whispered.

"We have always protected one another—ever since I made you," Sophie-Anne said, leaning upward to kiss him softly on the lips. "You have been my rock, and I have had faith that you would always do what is best for us and our family. Now, I worry."

"Worry?" he asked, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

"I worry that you may believe you know _better_ than I do—better than your own maker. I worry that you have been working around me in a misguided attempt to strengthen me. Not unlike Jade is doing to Peter," the queen added, barely loud enough for Andre to hear her.

"I would never harm you," Andre averred.

"I fear you already have," Sophie-Anne responded, her tone hardening. "Please tell me if I am correct, Andre. Tell me so that trust is not fully lost between us."

"I do not know what you are talking about. Despite my dislike of the alliance with Arkansas, I have taken no steps to stop it," Andre promised.

"Promise me that you do not mean to take the telepath for your own," the queen said sharply, moving the topic in a direction Andre wasn't prepared for.

He backed a little away from his maker. "I don't!"

"But you did intend to take her—didn't you?" Sophie-Anne retorted sagely.

Andre looked down for a moment. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head. And when he looked back up at his maker, he even considered telling her everything involving Bill Compton, Appius Livius Ocella, and the witches.

But there was still time to fix things!

So, he decided to be honest—but only up to a point.

"I did covet the telepath for your sake," he admitted. "And I did contemplate taking her from Northman, bonding with her, and then presenting her to you as a gift. However, I have rethought that plan."

"And you can now promise me that you intend no such thing? That you have no involvement in such a scheme?" Sophie-Anne asked.

"I promise," Andre said, making sure that—in that moment—he had a tight rein upon the emotions he allowed to filter into his bond with his maker. He let her feel his devotion to her, but not his lack of straightforwardness.

Sophie-Anne gave him an almost imperceptible nod. "Do not forget who is the maker and who is the child between us," she said firmly. "You know well that I did not wish for Sookie to be bound in such a way." She sighed loudly. "I do, however, feel that some of this is my fault. My desire to play matchmaker with Sookie—and to put Bill Compton into her life to be a perfect suitor who could bring her to my court in a bubble of love—may be at the root of your desire to tie her to me and to yourself. But tasking Bill to romance her was not what I should have done."

"I agree," Andre responded. Indeed, he still thought that he should have been tasked with bringing Sookie to court upon first knowledge of her.

"Your way would not have been better," she said somewhat wearily, having guessed his current thoughts. "Having seen Sookie and Eric together, there can be no doubt that they are as they should be. I want no more thoughts of separating them."

"No thoughts," Andre said softly.

There was a knock at the door.

"One moment!" Sophie-Anne called out, sensing that it was Wybert and Hadley waiting to enter.

She looked at Andre closely. "If Bill Compton has designs upon Miss Stackhouse, I want you to end them—even if that means ending Compton. Do you understand?"

"Compton?" Andre asked. "Isn't he out of the country?"

"End his scheme!" the queen said firmly, even as her fangs descended. She had Andre's back against the wall and she was holding him by the throat before she'd finished her sentence.

"My queen," Andre gasped in pain.

"I need you tonight, Andre. I know that—at least—I can trust you to help me deal with this Jade business. But tomorrow night, you will feel my wrath for misleading me and for trying to maneuver situations around my wishes—just because you believe you know better than your maker! Do you know better?!" she yelled.

"No," Andre responded, shaking his head as much as he could.

"Remember you don't!" Sophie-Anne said before dropping him.

Slowly, Andre stood up.

"Don't lie to me again, Andre. And make sure that Compton is not an issue!" she ordered as she turned to go open the door for Wybert and Hadley, even as her oldest child smoothed out his suit. "And don't disappoint me."

"I won't," he said softly, shame clear in his tone.

She looked back at him, her features softening again. "Tomorrow night—we will figure out where to go from here. And we will begin to heal our rift— _together_ —my love."

Andre nodded.

He was full of regret. But he would not disappoint his maker. He would find a way to protect her from whatever was to come. And he would earn her trust again—even if he had to find a way to kill Appius Livius Ocella himself. Even if he would have to continue to endure Northman's position in the state.

"I will not disappoint you again, my queen," he vowed as Sophie-Anne turned the door handle.

Andre stood up straight as his brother and new sister entered the room, followed close at hand by Desmond Cataliades, King Threadgill, Jade Flower, Jennifer Cater, and Alcander Kiriakidis.

It was showtime.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I found myself so intrigued by Andre and Sophie-Anne's relationship. This is a maker who loves and counts on her child—probably too much. Indeed, their relationship in the books seemed almost like partners since they were close in age. Not surprisingly, in a "brotherly way," Andre is protective of her, and she has trusted him for so long it is difficult of for her to let go of that trust. I saw this chapter as her giving him one last chance to make things right. But I also wanted to point out some lack of vision on her part. She doesn't understand how big of a scheme Andre has found himself in because she thinks that Bill is the main vampire in that scheme. She has no idea that Appius is now pulling Bill's strings. Andre could have chosen to tell her that—and to mitigate the damage. Her main mistake—I think—is in not commanding him to tell her everything. She truly wants him to do the right thing on his own. Andre's fatal flaw is in not being able to admit that he doesn't know what's best for her and the kingdom. They are both being obstinate here in their own ways. Anyway—I had so much fun with this confrontation.**

 **Please leave me a comment if you have the time and/or inclination!**

 **All the best,**

 **Kat**

 **P.S. For those of you who are waiting (im)patiently for the action to heat up, I'm sorry you've been frustrated. Sometimes, I pace my stories like television episodes-with a lot of scenes that ultimately fuel a main plot. I can promise that next week's chapter is the start of a quickening of the pace. Thanks to everyone still handing in with this story.**


	35. Chapter 34: Tumbling Tumbleweeds

**Chapter 34: Tumbling Tumbleweeds**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 9:54 p.m.**

"Oh shit!" Molly exclaimed right after Eric's phone vibrated.

"Issues?" Eric asked.

"Is that the signal?" Molly asked nervously.

Eric looked down at his phone. "No. That's your two-minute warning. You are to take over the system at the next signal—approximately two-minutes from now. Is that going to be a problem?" the Viking asked the young vampire.

"No! I'm ready!" she answered quickly.

"Then why the 'oh shit?'" Maria-Star intoned.

"I've never been involved in this sort of thing," Molly responded, her fingers flying over her keys.

Eric chuckled as he squeezed Sookie's hand. Along with Molly and Maria-Star, Thalia, Pam, Padma, Maxwell Lee, Paloma, Chow, Indira, and Amelia were all positioned in the large sitting room which was at the center of the suite shared by Sophie-Anne and her children.

It seemed that—after Eric had told Thalia to be extra cautious the night before—she'd called in reinforcements in the form of the best vampires Area 5 had to offer (beyond the ones who'd already been in New Orleans, of course). Given the fact that Eric had experienced a second, distinct feeling of dread right when he'd risen for the night, he couldn't be mad that Sookie's Head of Security had ordered Chow to close down Fangtasia and gather the troops. The Area 5 reinforcements had arrived half an hour earlier and had been snuck over to the queen's quarters through Molly's ingenuity as she'd taken over various camera feeds so that Margeaux, who was one of two vampires on duty in the surveillance room, could not detect them.

There was a knock at the door. Eric motioned to Pam, who was closest to it.

A moment later, King Threadgill and Jennifer Cater entered, trailed by Jacob, the king's trustworthy guard.

"Did we miss anything?" Peter asked with a nod of his head toward the Viking and Sookie.

"No, Your Majesty," Eric quickly answered.

Peter took in the people in the room, who all gave him respectful nods. "Intros later. In the meantime, I like _that_ ," he said to Chow, who was mindlessly playing with one of his wooden daggers, which were his weapons of choice.

Chow gave the king a smirk. "I make them myself."

"We'll talk about a commissioned order later." Peter nodded appreciatively before looking back at Eric, who was now looking down at his bonded.

"Remember," he said to her softly.

"Stay here with Molly, Amelia, and Maria-Star," she whispered. She and Eric had already agreed that she should stay put—and safe—in the queen's sitting room. "I will. Thank you for taking Thalia with you." The elder vampiress going with Eric had been a compromise on their part.

"Thank you for agreeing not to get into the middle of the fight," he smirked.

Sookie shook her head and they shared a smile as they remembered all the times when the telepath had put herself into the middle of harm's way. Both were glad that she was now fully considering where she could be of best help (or just plain out of the way) during times of danger. The next ten minutes, which would be ripe with close-quarter vampire-on-vampire fighting, were not meant for her telepathic skills.

Eric nodded slightly even as he glanced at his phone as it buzzed.

"Now, Molly," Eric said to the young computer savant.

She nodded and pressed some more keys.

"I'm in," she said. "I'm playing the earlier feed now," she added.

Sookie tensed next to the Viking as they turned their attention to the room's large television screen, which was currently showing images from nine different camera feeds. In one image, Sigebert and Hadley exited the queen's office.

However, it was an image of the surveillance room that had everyone's attention.

"There she goes," Thalia said, her sharp eyes picking up movement from Margeaux. Sure enough, the "extra" camera that Molly had Rasul install right after he left her bedroom twenty minutes before dawn the night before was picking up Margeaux sending a text.

"She's taking control of the feeds for cameras six through thirteen," Molly reported. "Or—at least—she thinks she is." The young vampiress chuckled as everyone watched several of the camera images seem to skip before empty images of hallways returned. "That's what Margeaux wants everyone to see, but here's what's actually happening."

Again, the images seemed to skip.

"So you've taken over her takeover of the feeds—without her knowin' it?" Peter asked.

"Yes," Molly responded.

Peter chuckled. "Where can I get one?" he asked, looking at Molly covetously.

"Try Washington. That's where mine came from," Eric smirked.

Peter winked at Molly, who looked ready to blush—if only she were able.

"Heads up," Sookie said, her eyes still focused on the cameras.

Jade and three other vampires came into view, slowly stalking toward where they expected Hadley and Sigebert to be coming from.

Sookie took a shaky breath. "They have silver nets."

Her bonded gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"That's proof enough of Jade's duplicity," Peter said with a scowl. "Let's go kill that bitch!"

Eric nodded and sent a quick text before dropping Sookie's hand and then moving quickly to the door to lead the attack group out.

"Be careful," Sookie said, mustering her resolution.

Eric nodded and then exited—all the while sending her comfort and strength through their bond.

Only Sookie, Amelia, Maria-Star, and Molly were left in the room. And, of course, Batanya was there too—though no one knew exactly where.

"Do you wanna watch?" Molly asked sheepishly.

"Molly, if you try to turn off the feeds, I'll stake you myself," Sookie said, her eyes fixed on the image of her bonded as he guided the others down a corridor. Meanwhile, Jade and her group took a position where they felt they would have the advantage over Hadley and Sigebert.

Of course, they were not actually in the hall. Thanks to Molly, the image of them leaving the office was earlier footage.

The "live" Sigebert, along with Wybert and Andre, came into view in another corridor.

Chow, Pam, and Jennifer branched away from the others in the group in order to go for Margeaux in the surveillance room. The other vampire stationed there already knew to help apprehend or kill the vampiress when the time came.

"Take a breath, or you'll pass out," Maria-Star said to the telepath as she continued to watch her beloved.

Amelia rushed to Sookie's side and took her hand. "It'll be okay," she soothed softly.

Sookie nodded, even as she began to breathe again. She watched Eric until he reached a corner. Sookie knew that—once he was around that corner—the fighting would begin.

Her vampire looked up toward the camera—toward her. He gave her a little nod and she felt intense love through their bond, along with building excitement.

Her Viking was ready for the fight.

* * *

Eric glanced back at the king, who was right behind him.

The Viking had to admit that, with his Bowie knife in his grip, Peter Threadgill was one intimidating son of a bitch.

Knowing that the scent of their group would reach and warn Jade if they lingered, Eric gave the signal to attack. However, only Peter, Thalia, and he rushed around the corner. The others still with them—including Paloma, Padma, Indira, and Maxwell Lee—were left behind in the corridor to intercept anyone who happened to get away.

And to make sure they never got anywhere near where Sookie and her group was waiting.

 _And_ because too many vampires in one narrow hall was not a good idea!

* * *

Jade intuited that something was wrong. Hadley and Sigebert should have arrived at the ambush point by now. Perhaps, they were called back to the queen's office. She glanced at her phone—no message from Margeaux.

The Asian vampiress looked at her companions. However, just as she was about to give the signal that they should abort, she smelled the threat. She already had a silver net in one hand, which was gloved. Quickly, she dropped her phone and took out her _yubi-bo_.

"Get ready!" she hissed right before her fangs dropped.

Her companions had no time to respond as they were rushed from two sides. The short corridor that Jade and her group had been waiting in—a connector between the hallway from the office area and the main hallway leading to the queen's residence—was suddenly teaming with fighting vampires.

All of the queen's male children came from one direction. From the other came the Viking, Thalia, and Jade's own king!

And—just like that—Jade knew that she was done for. However, she planned to die well and to take at least one of her attackers with her. Her gaze moved to the Viking.

He'd do.

He'd do very well!

* * *

The _yubi-bo_ was a weapon that the Viking could appreciate. Eric had trained with the _bō_ , which was a wooden staff weapon developed in Okinawa. Kenshin, Eric's technologically savvy friend who now lived in New York, had been the one to introduce the larger, taller man to the weapon.

Arrogantly thinking that a sword could easily defeat a staff, Eric had gotten knocked onto his ass by Kenshin, who wielded a _bō_ like a maestro conductor. And then—after Eric was humbled—the lessons had begun. The _bō_ that Eric had first learned to use was just one-inch shy of six feet, which was the customary length of the weapon in Japan.

Of course, there were variations of the staff weapon. In Korea, Eric had learned to use the _hanbō_ , which was about half the length of a _bō_.

It had taken the Viking a while to learn the discipline of wielding a _bō_ and even longer to perfect the usage of a _hanbō_. However, he had become lethal with both. Of course, he still preferred his sword.

But diversification never hurt.

Of all the staff weapons he'd practiced with in the Far East, however, the _yubi-bo_ was truly the most practical for vampires. Between six and eight inches long, the _yubi-bo_ was a shorter cousin to the _bō_ , but no less lethal in the hands of someone skilled.

Eric had heard that Jade attained mastery of the _yubi-bo_ as a human. It was simply a convenience that the weapon was a stake-sized piece of wood. It had—quite literally—been the perfect weapon to have trained with.

Indeed, the Viking had a fleeting thought that he might want to have Sookie train with such a weapon—because it would be an amazing vampire killer whether she was still a human or a fledgling vampire.

 _His child._

Of course, these thoughts burst in and out of his mind quickly as Jade engaged him in battle.

Well—as Doc Holliday had said in that amusing movie _Tombstone_ —Eric would be her "Huckleberry."

He had his sword drawn, but Jade was evasive, and he had to beware of the silver net. Already Wybert had fallen victim to one as he and his brothers engaged two of the people with Jade. Not surprisingly, Sigebert—as soon as he had the opportunity—had ripped the net off of Wybert with his own bare hands.

On the other side of Eric, Thalia and Peter were in battle with Jade's other "friend."

However, despite keeping track of the others, Eric only had eyes for Jade as she made a move on him, twisting his sword with her net and drawing it from his hands.

And—just like that—the Viking had no weapon!

Oh well—he'd just have to kill her with his bare hands!

* * *

"No!" Sookie yelled out, even as she saw Eric's sword yanked from his hands thanks to the net Jade was carrying. The others looked to be in good shape, but Eric's situation seemed dire as Jade approached with what looked to be a stake that was sharpened on both ends!

Jade drove the wood towards Eric's heart, though he was able to grab her hand and push her away. They circled each other for a moment.

"What's he doing?" Maria-Star growled from next to Sookie.

"Fighting!" Sookie yelled.

"No, _him_!" the Were said.

"Who?" Sookie asked.

"The fucking king!" Maria-Star pointed.

Reluctantly, Sookie moved her eyes from Eric to Peter, who had raised his Bowie knife ominously, his eyes trained on Eric.

"Wait! Was I wrong? Has Peter been in on it all along?!" Sookie lamented as the king seemed ready to throw his knife—right at her beloved! "No!" she screamed.

* * *

 **A MINUTE EARLIER**

"Fuck!" Peter muttered as the silver from his opponent's net grazed the back of his hand. Clearly, the asshole wielding it was trying to entangle his knife!

That asshole's name was Jasmine, who was as sweet-smelling as her name suggested. Peter had enjoyed her company—both in conversation and in the sack. He would have even said that she was "more-less trustworthy"—up until earlier that evening when he'd learned that the 700-plus-year-old vampiress was in league with Jade.

"Fucking cunt!" he gnarled out as she—once again—tried to dislodge his knife with her net.

Of course, it was just a matter of time before he and Thalia did her in, and Jasmine knew it, which was making her all the more erratic in her movements. Moreover, she seemed confused that her king was even there; perhaps, Jade had been feeding her comrades lies. It was of little matter now. All who stood with Jade—whether they knew that they were fighting against their king's wishes or not—were going to meet the true death.

Soon, it would be Jasmine's time.

However, if there was one thing Peter knew, it was that the cornered animal—or the dying one—could be the most lethal kind, especially if its foe let his guard down for even a moment. That's why Peter _never_ let his guard down until a battle was won.

David and Travis, the other two vampires helping out Jade, had a combined thousand years between them, and they were engaged with the queen's children. That battle, too, was just a matter of time.

More interesting was the battle between Northman and Jade.

How Peter wished that he was the one fighting her! However, he was a realist. Jade was older and stronger than he was, and though the king hadn't let those factors come between himself and a good win in the past, Jade was also in possession of information about how he fought, for he had sparred with her many times in the past.

Still, he was envious that the task of killing her had fallen to Eric. On the other hand, a part of the king just wanted to order everyone else in the hall to stop fighting for a while so that they could all enjoy the battle taking place between Eric and Jade. For a while, it was Eric's sword against Jade's short staff weapon and silver net.

What a sight that had been! Eric was more graceful than any damned prima ballerina that Peter had ever seen (or bedded), despite the fact that his weapon of choice was a large broadsword! Most people whom Peter had seen wielding such a weapon relied on forceful moves and slices. On the contrary, Eric's movements with his sword were a series of swooshes and loops that cut the air as if they were aimed to sever tiny atoms. Only Jade's quick countering moves had prevented her from being that sword's bitch many times!

But—Peter had to admit it—Jade was a damned good fighter. He'd seen her kill vampires as old as Northman with her _yubi-bo_. And it seemed as if she'd been practicing with her silver net for hundreds of years with the way it was being used for both offense and defense.

However, the canny king had seen enough battles to know that Eric would win against Jade nine times out of ten.

Still—there was always the one.

Even as Peter's fight wore down, the king saw Jade's net rip Eric's sword from his hands. Eric was weaponless!

Peter knew that he needed to act to help the Sheriff, whose chances had just gone from 9 out of 10 to about even, given that Jade still had her weapon of choice. Oh—Eric was dodging her thus far, and looking for an opening of his own, but Peter wasn't willing to risk the loss of such a warrior to his disloyal lieutenant.

He caught Thalia's eye and gave her a look that told her she'd need to finish off Jasmine herself, an arrangement he figured that the vicious vampiress would actually prefer.

The king found an opening and kicked Jasmine further toward Thalia before turning to look at Eric and Jade again, his Bowie knife raised and ready for a throw.

However, he need not have bothered—or worried. Just when it seemed that Jade might have a winning move, Eric side-stepped her at vampire speed and grabbed the wrist of her right hand—the hand holding her _yubi-bo_. He spun her around at almost impossible speed. In the next moment, Jade's scream filled the hallway, and her whole fucking arm—severed at the shoulder due to the momentum of Eric's twisting motion—was in the Viking's hand!

Eric's fangs were prominent due to his taunting smile as he took Jade's own _yubi-bo_ from her disintegrating hand. Gripping it like an expert, he moved toward his incapacitated and— _quite literally_ —unarmed foe.

He growled as he took the short staff weapon in two hands and pushed it forcefully against her throat before shoving her against the hall wall with it. Jade's legs kicked uselessly as she tried to hit Eric with her one remaining fist, even as she continued to bleed sluggishly from where her other arm had been severed.

Eric simply kept smiling and pushing her weapon into her neck.

Not needed in that fight, Peter shifted his knife and threw it into David's calf muscle. David yelled out as the knife lodged deeply into its target. In the next moment, David was no more as Wybert lopped off his head with a sword. Almost at the same time, Travis met the wrong end of a stake in Sigebert's hand. And Thalia finished off Jasmine the old-fashioned way—with her fangs.

The sight of that made Peter harder than he'd been in a while.

However, he curbed his desire and focused back on Jade.

Eric still had her in the little prison he'd made for her, the _yubi-bo_ slowly crunching into her flesh.

"Would you care for the honor, Your Majesty?" Eric asked as he smirked at Jade, who was hissing at him in her powerlessness.

"No," Peter answered, even as Sophie-Anne gave the same answer from behind Wybert where she had emerged as soon as the danger had passed.

She'd wanted to be involved in the fight; however, it had been more prudent for her to stay back just in case anything had happened to Peter. Given that the betrothal contract had been signed and was now binding, she would have been able to take over Arkansas had the king met an untimely end as he took part in the slaying of the rogue vampires from his state.

Peter, in fact, had insisted upon that.

However, there had been no way that he would have stayed out of the fray—not when the disloyal Arkansas vampires were his responsibility and Sophie-Anne's trust was his to earn.

He just wished he'd been able to kill every damned one of the treacherous group!

The king walked over to where David's body was decomposed and took his Bowie knife out of the sludge that remained of his leg. He lifted it to his lips and took a taste before using his pant's leg to clean the knife. And then he reached out his hand to Sophie-Anne so that he could gallantly guide her over the bodies' remains as if she were a genteel lass as opposed to a millennium-old vampiress.

Of course, she didn't need his help to navigate the sludge. But she sure liked getting it.

He walked her to the best vantage point—to watch what the Viking intended to do with Miss Jade Flower.

* * *

Eric felt exhilaration! The rush of a battle won!

He also felt relief—Sookie's. He knew that she was watching through the cameras.

She'd never seen him kill in cold blood before.

That was about to change.

He had Jade helpless. The pressure of his ever-increasing force upon the _yubi-bo_ against her throat was slowly changing the shape of her body, her neck becoming concave.

"I've decapitated people with my bare hands. And with a sword. With knives of all kinds, really. And axes," he growled as Jade once again tried to kick against him. Too bad the back of her spine had been pushed so hard against the wall that her legs could barely move.

"Your C-7 and C-8 vertebrae have been crushed. If you were a human, your beautiful yubi-bo would have choked you by now, but you cannot be choked; thus, the pressure must be absorbed by the back of the neck. Your cervical vertebrae are taking the brunt of the pressure, I'm afraid."

Jade once again tried to kick, but there was even less movement than before.

"This kind of trauma to a human causes quadriplegia. Of course, the magic in the blood you have left is trying to help, which is why those little stems of yours are still a-kickin'," he grinned. "But," he said as he leaned his weight into her more, "I can stop that."

Her legs did, indeed, stop moving completely as her C-7 vertebrae snapped. And then her remaining arm went completely limp.

"That's C-6 letting you down," Eric chuckled as Jade's neck seemed to disappear even more into the wall.

She tried to make a noise of protest—or growl—but only a strained gurgle passed her lips.

"You chose to fight me—out of everyone here, Jade," Eric taunted. "You picked me especially. And I feel—oh so special. Any regrets?" he grinned.

He pressed a little harder.

"Do you want to question her? To see if she had others that she has been working with?" he asked Peter.

"No, thank you," the king said. "I'd rather watch you do that until her head pops off."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Eric replied coldly. The vampire took a moment to assess his bond with Sookie. He could feel a mixture of emotions from her now. There was still some relief that he'd won the battle. However, she was also uncomfortable due to the violence she was witnessing from him. He kept steady pressure on Jade's neck, even as he contemplated killing her immediately so that the situation would be more palatable to his bonded.

Sookie must have felt his doubt, for in the next moment, she sent him acceptance and love.

Love more than anything.

The Viking knew that this moment was testing Sookie and him as a couple. Knowing what he was going to be doing to Alcide Herveaux had been one thing. Seeing him perform cruelty upon another being in the way he was now doing to Jade was another.

A part of him had always feared that a moment might come when Sookie rejected him because of the violence he was capable of when it came to protecting those under his care. He wondered if she had any idea how much worse he would be torturing Jade if Sookie—and not Sophie-Anne—had been her target.

He would have spent hours on her. And Jade's pain would have been profound.

"I suppose you are mostly past pain now," Eric said, taking in Jade's completely unmoving body as he pressed the weapon further against her throat, again changing the shape of her body. He could feel as each vessel and tendon snapped beneath Jade's beloved weapon.

"But you suffer beyond pain," the Viking continued. "Your eyes tell me that you do. Your eyes say that _nothing_ has ever scared you more than losing your power. Your eyes tell me that you wish I would just finish my decapitation of you with something sharp so that you did not have to spend another second feeling so powerless."

Eric tilted his head a little as he pressed again. "I wonder if—almost at your end—you are sorry that you betrayed your king. I know that you are sorry that you attempted to kill my queen. If you had kept your vow to Peter, you would not be in this mess, Jade. Indeed, you and I may have even fought on the same side. I could have learned from you, for your technique at wielding your _yubi-bo_ really was sublime. Tell me—what do you think of my technique?"

He pressed her further into the wall.

And further still.

He could feel more things tearing as her neck could not withstand the wooden weapon on one side and the hard wall on the other.

"You were a warrior," Eric said quietly. "But you were not warrior enough for me."

The intensity and power in his voice made her dimming eyes regain a little of her sense. She blinked—as if in agreement with him.

Seeing that he had punished her to the fullest extent he had time for, he pressed the yubi-bo further into her flesh.

And he watched the blunt, smooth weapon cut off the head of its mistress with a loud popping noise.

Blood covering him due to his proximity to Jade's "explosion," he turned to face the monarchs—both of whom he now served, given their alliance. He nodded to them and pocketed the _yubi-bo_. It was a good weapon, after all.

"Margeaux?" he asked.

"Pam killed her with her katana—decapitated her in a more," Sophie-Anne paused, "traditional way."

Eric shrugged and reached down to pick up his sword, careful of the silver as he untangled it from the damnable net.

"I had to improvise," the Viking grinned.

"You're one badass motherfucker," Peter said, reaching out to shake forearms with Eric in the way of warriors of old. "I hate to admit it, but I thought she had you for a second there. I was even going to help, but—clearly—it wasn't needed. I'll remember that about them cervical vertebrae though," he chuckled before bending down and laying a deep kiss onto Sophie-Anne's lips.

She giggled as he let her up.

"I guess we'd all better change," the king said, looking around at the blood-covered group. "Close quarters fightin' is always messy." His eyes became mischievous. "Unless you want to attend the ball like this."

Sophie-Anne hit him playfully. "Go get presentable, you brute!"

Peter winked at her and then quickly left, Jacob following behind.

"Well—I think we'd all better be getting changed. And I'm sure there's a telepath who'd like to see you about now," Sophie-Anne said in a low voice.

"There is," came Sookie's voice from behind Palomino, Maxwell Lee, and Indira, who had ventured into the corridor to witness Jade's end. Meanwhile, Padma had gone to resume her post outside.

Eric walked to his bonded with purpose, and she threw her arms around him, unmindful of the blood. After a long kiss, she came up for air.

"You were amazing!" she said sincerely. "I hated it, but you were amazing."

The intimate moment was broken by Sophie-Anne. "Where the fuck is Andre!?"

* * *

 **A/N: Yay! Jade's dead! I hope you all enjoyed the scene. It was definitely fun to write, and I thought it fitting that Jade be killed by her own favorite weapon. And Peter has proven himself here, though I wanted a moment of worry.**

 **I hope you will let me know what you thought of the scene. Thanks!**

 **And have a wonderful holiday—if you celebrate American Thanksgiving! If not, then just have a great regular week. I *may* not be able to post the next chapter next Sunday. It will depend on holiday travel. If not, I will post early next week.**

 **All the best,**

 **Kat**


	36. Chapter 35: Up Above My Head

**Chapter 35:** **Up Above My Head**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 9:30 p.m. (roughly half an hour earlier than the last chapter)**

Jude Hensley had been suffering a sense of uneasiness ever since he'd arrived at Andre's safehouse in Esplanade Ridge, a neighborhood between the French Quarter and the New Orleans fairgrounds. On North Dupre Street and very close to the fairgrounds, Andre's relatively modest three-story safehouse stood about one hundred yards from the crown-jewel of the neighborhood, a double-galleried home that was functioning as a bed and breakfast.

Rasul had dismissed Jude when he'd arrived to take over the watch. However, the Were had a feeling in his gut that told him to stay nearby, despite his not hearing a peep from Andre's house until five minutes after sundown—when a van with four humans inside arrived.

Jude had been positioned with his camera and had taken pictures of Bill Compton, who let in the humans. Sadly, the magic around Andre's house did not allow Jude to see in any further than the front door's threshold. Hell! Jude had seen only Bill's head, upper chest, and one arm—since those were the only parts of him that had actually extended beyond the threshold of the house. Nothing else had been seen—not even by his camera.

"Strong fuckin' magic," the Were muttered.

Not long after the humans had gone in, Rasul had arrived on scene. After a quick text sent from Rasul to Wybert confirming Compton's presence in the safehouse, Wybert had reiterated that Rasul's assignment was to follow Compton in order to see what he was up to.

At that point, Rasul had dismissed Jude. But the Were wasn't always so great at following orders, especially not when he was concerned about a friend's wellbeing. And Rasul was a friend—even if Jude didn't admit to that at pack meetings.

Jude had parked himself and his telephoto lens on a second story veranda of the bed and breakfast. Given his long day of watching the area, he knew that the people who'd rented the room attached to the veranda that he was "borrowing" were planning a romantic dinner and a show at the Saenger Theater; thus, the space was his until at least midnight. He'd used his Were agility to climb to the second floor and to get into place—after picking the lock into the boarding house so that he could disappear inside if necessary.

Rasul could sense that Jude had decided to keep watch—as was clear from the several times that the vampire had looked up toward him and flipped him off.

Jude smirked. Yeah—he and the vampire were friends.

The Were would have put money on the human "donors" never leaving Andre's safehouse, but they did—about forty minutes after they'd arrived. They all looked pale, roughed up, and glamoured. One of the two men in the group no longer had a shirt or a functioning button on his jeans. Jude could see several sets of fresh bite marks on his chest even from where he sat.

Compton had appeared at the door once more, and this time his whole body had stepped beyond the threshold. Jude cringed a little at the memory. Compton had been as naked as the day he was born, and that was a sight that the Were could have lived his whole life without!

After offering one more piece of glamour to the driver of the van, Bill had hurried back inside, and the humans had driven away.

Jude figured they were lucky, but the situation made the Were worry even more about his friend. Compton wasn't one to display himself so immodestly, nor had he been known as being particularly rough with humans when he'd lived at court.

Oh—Jude knew that Compton was an entitled little punk, but not particularly violent. He couldn't help but to wonder _who_ Bill was keeping company with.

It was that unknown that made the Were extra vigilant.

After the humans had left, the house—again—became as silent as a tomb.

Jude glanced down at his watch out of habit more than necessity. It was 9:33 p.m., and he couldn't help but to wonder when—or even if—Bill would leave the house. He could see Rasul from where he was perched. The vampire was crouched down behind a fence two houses down from Andre's.

And then—suddenly—he wasn't!

It took Jude a moment to realize that a being of incredible speed and strength had snatched Rasul from his spot! He watched with horror as Rasul's body was—quite literary—propelled through the air and onto the front porch of Andre's safehouse! In the next moment, a vampire—more deadly than any Jude had ever seen—stood over Rasul, whose body was clearly broken.

Detaching himself emotionally from the situation as any experienced guard knew was necessary, Jude processed the situation. And he understood immediately that he could not save his friend. But he _could_ warn his employer. The Were glanced toward the door leading inside of the boarding house. It was less than five feet from where he sat.

He knew his best course of action would be to quickly—but quietly—go inside, shut the door, and then make a phone call to Wybert. Inside the human-owned home, an uninvited vampire could not enter. Also, Jude didn't want to risk being caught by the monster who was currently ripping Rasul's intestines from his body!

After a moment to mourn what was happening to his friend before his very eyes, the Were quietly rose to his feet and—with as little movement and noise as possible—made his first step toward the open door.

And then his second.

Unfortunately, he was not able to make it to his third.

The vampire who'd just been savagely ripping into Rasul had jetted onto the veranda faster than Jude could blink!

"You're a pretty Were," the vampire said with a smirk. "My child has a taste for your kind."

Though he knew fighting was useless against the being in front of him, Jude was not one to do nothing.

So he lunged at the vampire, his body shimmering with an impending shift as he did.

However, the move had been useless, and Jude found himself caught by the throat by the ancient being! He tried to continue his shift, but the vampire squeezed harder.

"I love a fighter," the vampire sneered sickly, his fangs glistening in the light of the almost-quarter moon.

Jude knew that it would be the last moon he saw in his life.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 9:50 p.m.**

"Would you like for me to clean this up before we leave?" Bill asked as he looked down onto the front porch of Andre's safehouse. The sludgy remains of Rasul, a vampire in the queen's court, were staining the wood.

Meanwhile, the Were's corpse was inside. The wolf had given Alexei some temporary pleasure and had offered him a sense of peace, which made up for the fact that Appius had allowed the four human donors sent over by Andre to leave relatively unscathed.

The humans' safe-leaving had not been an act of altruism by Appius; on the contrary, it had been a punishment for the youngest vampire in their nest, for he'd defied his maker on a small thing the night before. The young one had refused to put away his video game when his maker told him to do so.

Bill smiled fondly to himself as he thought of how childlike his "brother" was sometimes. Of course, Appius's punishments of him were never overly harsh. Indeed, Alexei had gotten to eat an ample amount from the human donors before Appius cut him off. He'd just not gotten to drain them, a fact that had certainly disappointed the young vampire.

However, the gift of the Were had brightened Alexei's spirts back to normal!

"No. I think that we will leave the mess to Andre," Appius replied. "Either he is responsible for these spies who have been watching this dwelling, or he has been inept enough to lead them to us. Either way, we will not be staying in this home again. After the events of this night, we'll either have an invitation to stay in the queen's residence, or we shall spend the night upon Sophie-Anne Leclerq's remains."

"Do you believe you will have to kill the queen, Master?" Bill asked tentatively—so as to ensure that Appius did not think that he was questioning his behavior in any way.

The ancient winked at Bill. "Worry not. I will wager that the queen is welcoming. I have read up on Sophie-Anne Leclerq and know that she is a reasonable and—more importantly—a realistic vampiress. She may be upset that we have disrupted her party. But vampire law does not allow her to come between me and my plans for my child—despite the fact that she is his monarch. Since the telepath is currently under Eric's control, the queen is employing her through him, and according to Andre, Sophie-Anne is paying a pretty penny for that usage." Appius scoffed. "Once the telepath is transferred back to you, we will offer her services to the queen _gratis_ or—at least—for only favors from her. I do not see why she would be upset with such a change in the telepath's status. After all, she will get a better deal out of the new situation," he added glibly.

"And—if Andre lives up to his part—the queen will be made to understand that your interests in Louisiana are benign, Master," Bill said confidently.

Appius chuckled. "Well—at least—benign where _she_ is concerned." He looked momentarily displeased. "Perhaps, all these machinations are unnecessary. I could, after all, just go to the queen to inform her that I will be in my child's life for the next year or so. And then I could simply call him to me and begin my work reforming his behavior without the witch or Andre having a part."

Bill bit his tongue, but seemed quite worried due to his master's words.

Appius chuckled and patted the younger vampire's back even as a car drove by on the quiet street. With the porch light off, human eyes could see neither the bloody remains nor the vampires in the shadows.

"Do not worry, William. I will not alter our plans. We would not want for Eric to be able to do something foolish when I call him—like arrange for his own true death or organize the spiriting away of Miss Stackhouse." He looked at Bill with a mixture of disappointment, pity, and mockery. "I know that your blood tie with the telepath is now lost, so we could not track her easily if she were to run away with her guards—especially if Eric ended himself in lieu of answering my call."

"I am sorry that I have failed you, Master," Bill said, looking down.

"We have discussed this, William," Appius said. "You failed _yourself_ when you let the telepathic asset get away—when you did not fully secure her with your blood so that she could never get away from you. But that was before you were with me, and I will help you to set the situation to rights."

"I know. Thank you, Master."

Appius petted his cheek. "Surprising Eric and the telepath tonight is our best move. We will take Miss Stackhouse without worry of her escaping. And—after we have her—I will reassert my control over Eric when he comes for her. Think of how surprised he will be to see me!" He laughed gleefully. "Oh—it will be so amusing! I am sure that the queen will appreciate the show! Or Andre will finally prove useful—and convince his maker to see things our way."

"And if that's not how things turn out?" Bill asked with concern.

"Then, the queen will pay for her child's flaws with her existence," Appius shrugged. "And—then—perhaps that Arkansas king that Andre is so worried about will see reason and support our stay in his _new_ territory." The elder leaned over to kiss Bill's lips lightly. "Let's just play all that by ear—shall we?"

Bill nodded, but he was still quite pensive.

Appius took him into his embrace. "Remember that the plan is quite simple. Miss Pelt will cause a distraction, which will—in turn—cause Sookie to be taken to safety while Eric helps to deal with the situation. We will then take Sookie easily and eliminate her personal bodyguards. Once we have her in our custody, I'll call Eric, and—for the sake of Miss Stackhouse—he will bow to my will. Indeed, I would be surprised if the queen is involved in any of our actions! And the witches, Mark Stonebrook and Hallow—will help us so that we don't inadvertently kill Sophie-Anne's people. Sophie-Anne will have no reason to fret." He chuckled. "Likely, we'll be enjoying the ball with her by 1:00 a.m. Speaking of which—it is just after 10:00 p.m. We must get ready and go to the witch's dwelling if we are to be there at the appointed time."

"Yes, Master," Bill said. "I'll get Alexei on track."

Appius nodded as he kicked some of Rasul's sludge almost absentmindedly. "Oh—and William?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Be sure to dress in your best. We'll be attending a party, after all!"

* * *

Appius smiled as he watched the retreating figure of William Compton, who was proving to be such the useful babysitter for Alexei when Appius needed it. Yes—it was nice to have time to himself, which had been a rare luxury for the ancient vampire, given Alexei's need for almost-constant supervision.

Moreover, it was just so goddamned fun to test the American Civil War-era whelp, too!

And tonight was going to be such an intriguing test for William!

"Especially when _little_ goes as he thinks it is going to," Appius said softly to himself. After one last look at the remains of the ineffectual vampire spy, whom he'd smelled watching the supposed "safehouse," the ancient made his way inside and was pleased to hear that a shower was going. The drive to the witches' dwelling would take only fifteen minutes, but there was absolutely no time to dally, thanks to the fact that the Were spy had also remained outside after dark, sucking up a bit more time than Appius had counted on.

The elder vampire scoffed as he thought about the gall of the vampire and Were spies—setting up so close to his location. Of course, they obviously did not know that there was a vampire of superior senses inside of the house. And that fact would likely save Andre's life, for—if he had arranged for the surveillance—he would have warned his people to stay much farther away.

Still, the spies being there at all was another mark against Andre; clearly, he'd not covered his tracks well enough. For that, Appius planned to make Andre's life difficult for the foreseeable future.

Appius collected his tuxedo from its garment bag and made his way to an empty bathroom in the house—where he could hurry through his own shower. He'd already decided to have William collect all of their belongings and bring Alexei to the witches' lair at around 11:00 p.m. Meanwhile, he would fly there sooner. He wanted to make sure that Andre could still be counted on. Plus, upon contemplation, he had determined that the plan needed to be altered to a certain extent. And he wanted William to be surprised when some of those changes came to pass!

It would be so much more amusing that way!

And, of course, William's reaction would be yet another test for him.

Appius grinned! There was such an amusing evening ahead!

* * *

Pythia's existence had been full of the existences of others. People she would never know. People she would know too well. So many people. So many versions of their stories playing out in her mind.

Sometimes those stories were as mundane as preparing a meal.

Sometimes they were epic.

It was the epic ones that repeated again and again and again—but never quite in the same ways, for the choices of individuals continuously vied with fate.

"Endlessly battling," she sighed.

Pythia found it ironic that people thought that she could tell _the_ future, for, though she could tell _a_ future—sometimes even _many_ futures—none of them were guaranteed.

Lesser individuals of her kind had been unable to endure the floods from the future that periodically came to the oracles.

"Oι οπαδοί," she said softly in Greek, a language which was nearer to the one of her birth than the one the Spartans had taught her when she was brought to them as an infant by her mother.

Pythia had been payment for a good turn that the Spartan queen of the generation before had done for her people. The Spartans had simply waited until a seer of adequate strength was born on the small isle in the Aegean where Pythia's people had once dwelled.

The ancient sighed. They were all gone now—the ladies who could both see into the future and understand what they had seen. It was the _understanding_ that was the most difficult thing, for the future was not a single thing. When the future came to Pythia, it came in waves, and each wave told a different story—all with slight variations.

Some radically different.

Her "job" among the Spartans was to decipher what was most likely or guide the Spartans to an outcome which they would prefer.

But the future was _never_ certain—even if she proved time and again to be an efficient guide. Indeed, sometimes, it was trying to change the shape of the waves that made them larger—overwhelming. The Spartans had punished her when she failed in her predictions, not understanding that _they_ often created the failures themselves with their actions.

"Individual choice versus fate," she scoffed.

The irony of telling a human about one of the waves she saw from the future was that—if she did—it would invariably _not_ come to pass. Humans had no skill for simply waiting for fate; they would try to greet it, and—when they did—they altered their future.

Weres were no better.

And—vampires? They were the worst.

"Always thinking they know better than Fate," the oracle judged.

Ironically, Pythia had learned to stay out of the future—for the most part. Since she'd become a vampire independent of her maker, she had used the future mostly to show her what needed to be done in the present or what had been done in the past.

Other vampires thought her to be powerful because of the knowledge she possessed. What they failed to understand was that she knew things mostly because she had already witnessed the aftermath and could, therefore, match what she had seen of the future to the past which had taken place.

However, sometimes ignoring the future until it happened was almost impossible when Pythia was involved directly in her visions. On occasion, she had been able to know thousands of possibilities about her own outcome regarding one situation or another. Sometimes, those possibilities even included her true death.

Indeed, more than once, Pythia had chosen a "wave" from her visions which had promised her true death; she would hold to such a wave! For dying held much appeal to her at times.

"So much appeal," she said softly.

However, whenever she tried to let the ocean of the present carry her to true death and—hopefully—sweet oblivion, she inevitably failed. The instinct to live was so very impossible to ignore. And trying to do so only forced her to see more future waves which involved herself.

She had come to hate it whenever she did. She had learned that choosing the lesser of evils when it came to the possibilities of the future was all that she could do. Turning Appius had been an example of a lesser of evils—though that fact was difficult for even the ancient seer to believe!

She closed her eyes, recalling briefly the futures that would have come to pass if he'd _not_ been turned by her or if—even worse—he'd been turned by another vampire. For it seemed as if Appius Livius Ocella was fated to be a vampire. Her turning him had truly been the lesser of evils considering what other vampires may have gotten to him.

And why not just kill Appius so that others couldn't turn him? Again, his being in the world—ironically enough—had made the evils of it less—when taken as a whole with all of the things that his exit would have prevented from happening.

But that didn't mean his continued existence would always be the lesser of evils.

"Tonight, my child," she said coldly. "Finally."

Pythia had foreseen that Appius's continuation would now make the world worse—so much worse. She opened her glassy eyes; however, she could still "see" the repercussions if he remained undead. They were profound.

She shook her head and looked down as she stifled her memories of the visions she'd seen. She had chosen the most palatable future and had tried to put all of the pieces in just the right places for the desired outcome—Appius's death—to happen. To try to do more would—she knew—make things worse.

"Fuck things up," she said loudly, using the Louisiana vernacular.

"Mistress?" Noelle asked her from where she sat meditating across the large room.

Pythia could not help but to smile a little. How could she not live on when there were beings to help such as Noelle? She'd seen the waves of Noelle's future just in time to save the child from dying.

And she had saved others, too—all of her handmaidens. All had contributed to the good of the world.

Appius, too, had contributed to the good, though he would hate that fact.

"I am fine," Pythia said to her young Fae ward as she thought of the contributions of Eric and Karin alone. And Pamela would have her positive part to play in the future. Yes, Appius's life had led to much good, despite the vampire himself.

Pythia had one more part to play in her child's destiny, though—unfortunately—that part could not be to simply call him to her and kill him. The futures that would expand from that choice would be unpleasant to say the least. No—she needed to pilot the night ahead just right—like the captain of a ship upon a stormy sea.

And if she could just keep all the pieces on the correct "wave" until the night was done, she would—never again—see her child in any future she beheld.

* * *

 **A/N: First—apologies for my tardiness! There are many reasons for the delay to my posting—including holiday commitments, work commitments, and a "bug" that got hold of me for a week. However, I'm still sorry that I didn't get you this chapter in a timelier manner as I had promised. If it helps, my burning pants have kept me warm.**

 **So—last chapter—we got some "bad guy" deaths. This chapter gave us our first two casualties from the "good guys." I hate killing off characters I like. And—poor Molly—had just started something with Rasul, too! And I'd just been getting to know—and like—Jude. But the Muse was out for blood.**

 **I hope that—if you have stuck with me despite the delay—you will drop me a comment about what you think. It is my plan to recommence regular Sunday postings. Any encouragement from you is definitely appreciated! The good news is that my work commitments will be lesser for the next month, so I hope to draft the rest of this story so that there will be no more delays. And—then—on to the next project, whether that is returning to a languishing unfinished piece or answering the Muse's call to delve into something new. Regardless, I continue to have more stories to tell.**

 **All the best to you!**

 **Kat**


	37. Chapter 36: That's When Your Heartaches

**Chapter 36: That's When Your Heartaches Begin**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 10:30 p.m.**

"It is good that you are punctual," Appius said as he walked from the shadows of the plantation's front porch to greet the queen's errant child.

Andre recoiled a bit. Despite his fine-tuned senses, Appius was clearly stealthy enough to startle almost anyone.

The elder vampire took slow, deliberate steps toward Andre, who practically twitched due to the power radiating off of Appius.

"You disappointed me, Andre," he said. "I thought you and I had an arrangement—that we were _partners_ in this matter."

"It was not my intention to disappoint you, Ocella," Andre offered contritely—and with fear in his eyes.

"Tut, tut," the elder chastised. "You have lost your right to address me as anything other than _Master_ ," he emphasized, his expression cold.

"But I . . . ," Andre began.

Appius smiled, though there was no positive feeling behind it. "You hesitate, for you do not wish for your maker to understand the level of _commitment_ that I will now require from you."

"Require?" Andre asked with uncertainty, even as he glanced toward the front door.

"Oh—do not mind the Stonebrooks. They have graciously offered us some privacy so that we can speak of our new arrangement."

"And what is that going to entail?" Andre asked with trepidation.

Appius looked at him expectantly.

"What will that entail, _Master_?" the younger vampire corrected.

The elder nodded. "Likely, not much—beyond your cooperation and your aid in making sure that your queen is not an impediment to my plans while I sojourn in Louisiana."

"That was what I had been planning to do already," Andre said softly.

"Yes—but now I must be _impolite_ and make clear to you what will happen if I am displeased with you."

"What will happen," Andre paused, "Master?"

"I'll kill your maker, of course," Appius responded casually. "But not before I decimate this state."

Andre looked at him in horror.

"Please, do not worry! I do not _want_ to do any of that," Appius said with a smirk on his face. "All I want is to take possession of the telepath, taking advantage of the fact that she is in a territory that _you_ control—so that _you_ can be helpful to me. And I will be taking control of Eric tonight, too; he will be under my power for the next year or so. By the time I am done in Louisiana, he will be a weakened vampire in a weakened area. And _you_ will influence your queen to do _nothing_ to interfere with the plans I have for him. Then, you will make sure that Eric is allowed to _stay_ Sheriff of Area 5 for the rest of his term, which is up in seven years—if I understand correctly."

Andre nodded in affirmation.

"I think it will be fun to hear about how Eric must struggle to regain his standing—and his dignity—after the witch and I are done with him."

"What is Hallow going to do with him?" Andre asked.

"Nothing pleasant—I assure you," Appius winked. "Let us just say that it would do well for you to," he paused, as if searching for a word, " _cover_ for him for the next year with the queen. After the witch leaves him, I would like for you to insert a spy into whatever retinue my child has left at the end of the year. I want nightly reports about his struggles."

Andre frowned. "Cover for him?"

"Yes—Eric will be _quite_ unable to do much for the year to come. You will make sure that he keeps his job despite all of that. You will make sure he and I are left alone in Area 5." Appius smiled.

"What if there is a threat to the state? Tribute from Area 5 and resources are required by the queen, Master."

Appius shrugged. "If the boogie man dares to come to Louisiana while I am here, I will come and deal with him. How is that for security?"

"More than anyone could hope for, Master!" Andre enthused.

"After I leave, Eric will be available again—though it might take him a while to get back to top form. Oh well! I'm sure you can deal with that. And—after seven years—feel free to expel him from Louisiana. By then, your queen will be happy to see him go. In the meantime, you can enjoy the reports of his struggles as well."

Andre nodded. "I will do as you wish, Master." Indeed, nothing the elder was requiring thus far seemed bad at all to the younger vampire, and it was clear that Northman would be out of his hair for the foreseeable future—and then too weak to threaten the queen in any way! Yes—it would be ideal if the Viking were out of the state immediately, but watching Eric suffer would be amusing.

"While I am in the state, I will also require a steady supply of donors; you will send at least ten per week to William's home in Bon Temps. I'm sure that you can arrange for such a thing," Appius requested.

"If too many die, there will be questions, Master," Andre responded tentatively.

"I'll curb Alexei," Appius smirked. "But—if there will be the occasional accident. I will require you to cover those up, of course. Mainstreaming is so," he paused, "tedious."

Andre nodded. "I'll arrange for the donors."

"Excellent! You will also ensure that things go smoothly tonight after I take Miss Stackhouse and Eric into my power. As you can see, I am dressed for a party, and will be glad to _honor_ your maker's little ball with my presence!"

Once again, Andre nodded. "I will find a way, Master."

"Good! All that is left, then, is for us to talk over my _new_ plan with the witches and to set things into motion for the evening!" Appius smiled.

"New plan?" Andre asked with unease.

"More _adapted_ than new," the elder said congenially. He patted Andre in a fatherly fashion on his back. "Come—I shall tell you all about it."

"Yes, Master," Andre relented.

Appius smiled. "You should still call me Ocella in your maker's presence. We would not want for her to interfere at all with your service to me—would we?"

"No, Master."

* * *

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 10:40 p.m.**

Mark Stonebrook looked on with interest as Appius and Andre entered the old plantation house. The night before, Andre had fashioned himself to be in charge of the situation. He'd been the man with the plan—so to speak.

What a difference 24 hours had made!

Clearly, Appius now had Andre at the end of a leash.

A short one.

And Mark was wise enough to be all the more wary of the ancient vampire because of the change in the power structure. After all, at any minute, he might find himself at the bottom of Appius's food chain.

"You said that the plans have changed," Mark stated after Appius and Andre had sat down on one of the couches in the old living room. Hallow was on the other. Mark wasn't about to get comfortable; instead, he'd positioned himself directly behind his sister so that he could erect a protective barrier between them and the vampires—if need be.

"Indeed, the plan has changed a bit," Appius indicated with a nod.

"How so?" Hallow asked.

"For one, I no longer believe that Debbie's appearance would cause the effect Andre speculated it would," Appius stated.

Andre looked momentarily confused. "But," he paused, "Master, Northman has spent much effort making sure that the guesthouse is safe for the telepath. He would send her there at the first sign of trouble."

Appius gave Andre a patronizing look. "Oh course, he will. However, I do not believe that he will separate from her."

"Begging your pardon, Master, but I have been around Northman a lot in the last decades. He is not one to leave a hunt to others."

"You discount the power of love!" Appius said, though his words held pure sarcasm, rather than sincerity. "Anyway, William has told me tales to contradict your supposition—at least where Miss Stackhouse is concerned. I do not believe that Eric will leave her side if he feels that she is in danger."

"Tales?" Hallow asked.

"Indeed. William told me of an attack in Dallas. The telepath alerted vampires inside of Stan Davis's nest of the situation moments before the bullets began to fly. Not only did Eric take a bullet to protect Miss Stackhouse, but also he did not go after the attackers. Instead, he waited with the telepath—keeping watch over her—after she sucked a bullet out of him!" Appius laughed heartily. "So romantic! He played her white knight—protecting her from harm from other injured vampires who would have fed off of her—instead of following his instinct to eliminate his foes!"

"Perhaps, the bullet had injured him too severely," Mark ventured, still surprised that Andre was now referring to the elder vampire as "Master."

Appius dismissed his words. "No. According to William, the bullet was silver, but shouldn't have been too debilitating; it would not have prevented my child from seeking revenge upon the attackers. Indeed, after its removal, he would have had no problem pursuing the humans. And—then—there are the rumors William heard about regarding Jackson, Mississippi!"

"Rumors?" Andre asked with interest.

"Yes. Eric and the telepath went to Jackson to rescue poor William from his inferior maker. Apparently, during the trip, Miss Stackhouse was staked in a bar for Supernaturals." He motioned to his side. "Staked right here—as the story goes. Instead of finding and punishing her attacker, Eric stayed with Sookie _again_ , even giving her some of his blood to complete a healing. So—you see—I don't think Eric will let Sookie out of his sight if there is a threat to her. But that is fine. It will play right into my hands."

"How so?" Mark asked.

"Well—we will still deploy Miss Pelt as planned. The stir will still cause Eric to endeavor to get the telepath to safety. However, I want the little tunnel to the guesthouse to be cut off."

"You no longer want her to get trapped in there, Master?" Andre asked.

Appius shook his head. "When you were rattling on with William about your excuses earlier, Andre, I heard you mention that my child has a computer specialist in his retinue. Was she not manipulating camera feeds? Is it not possible that she will be able to see _everything_ that I do and warn others?" He shook his head. "I wouldn't want that to happen. Thus, you are going to kill her for me— _before_ I go in," he said to Andre.

"Kill her?" the younger vampire asked warily.

"Will that be an issue?" Appius said with warning in his tone.

"No, Master," Andre answered, though it was clear that he was wondering how such a thing could be accomplished without his arousing suspicion.

"Excellent. Also—I believe Eric will have done everything possible to protect the guesthouse and the tunnels, perhaps even using magic." He looked at Hallow. "You said there was magic in use around the telepath's Bon Temps residence."

"Yes," Mark confirmed. "I scouted the area out myself. It is a protection spell of some kind."

"Yes." Appius looked at Andre. "Is Eric using magic to help protect the guesthouse and tunnel?"

Andre shook his head. "I don't know. I've not been able to get close to it since Northman arrived."

"Not surprising. Is there a witch in Eric's retinue?" Appius asked.

"I don't know," Andre answered honestly. "But Eric and Sookie have both been using potions to alter their scents."

"Then we will assume there is a witch. Given all of this information, I want for my encounter with Eric and his telepath to take place in a more," he paused, " _neutral_ area."

Andre looked concerned.

"Oh—do not worry. I don't wish to interfere with the queen's ball. There must be a good spot on the queen's estate, however. Somewhere that would seem like a safe retreating place for my child _if_ the guesthouse is cut off from him?" he asked Andre.

The younger vampire considered for a moment. "There _is_ a large meeting room on the opposite side of the estate from the ballroom. If the tunnel is somehow cut off, then I believe Northman might go there. He knows that room well and would feel that he could keep his entire group together there."

"That sounds adequate. And—as an added bonus—your queen would be nowhere near any possible fray. Tell me—can you make sure that Eric goes there once the ruckus begins?" Appius asked, an insane glint in his eyes.

"It's where my queen would suggest in such a situation," Andre said with surety. "And—if she doesn't—I think I can influence the situation. But closing off the tunnel will be difficult."

"Not if the computer girl's sludgy remains are found at the entrance to the tunnel." Appius smiled and leaned forward, scrutinizing Andre. "Make it appear as if Debbie has killed her. Leave her there, and then make sure that _you_ have control of your cameras. In fact, shut them all down! Get Eric where I want him to be, and I'll take care of the rest."

"How? I mean: How, Master?"

"That is for _me_ to know," Appius smiled. "I still don't trust you. And—along those lines . . . ." He looked at Hallow and Mark. "Are you prepared to do as I asked when I got here?"

Hallow nodded and reached up to take her brother's hand. In the next second, they were both chanting.

"What the fuck?!" Andre queried, popping out of his chair when he felt the magic influence him somehow.

"It is a simple binding spell," Hallow said when she and Mark were done chanting.

"It will prevent you from mentioning me or any part of our plans together," Appius smiled.

"But my maker is old. She'll smell the magic," Andre protested.

"Shower thoroughly with this; even wash your hair with it," Mark said, tossing Andre a bar of soap.

The younger vampire lifted it to his nose. "Cedar."

"Among other things. It will cover the magic—at least beyond the scenting ability of most vampires," Mark added, glancing at Appius.

"Miss Pelt will be expecting to be let in at 12:30 a.m. sharp. _I_ will expect for Eric's computer expert's remains to be where they need to be, for the cameras to be off, and for the alarm bells to be ringing fifteen minutes after that. Can you manage these simple tasks?" Appius asked.

Andre nodded. "Yes, Master."

"Good. I want you— _personally_ —to let me onto the estate's grounds at 12:50 a.m., and make sure no one is there to see me. Then you will take me to where I can find my child and his telepath."

"What then?" Andre asked with trepidation.

"Then return to the ball. Once I have Eric and the telepath in my power, I will come in the front entrance, you will introduce me to your queen, and we will all enjoy the rest of the evening. Your queen will be none the wiser."

"What of Debbie?" Andre asked.

Appius looked at Hallow. "She is your creature. Do you want her to live?"

"Do with her what you wish," the Hallow said with a shrug. "In fact, it would be better if she were killed since she's outlived her usefulness."

"Be the one to find and kill her in order to ingratiate yourself to your maker—if you wish," Appius shrugged in Andre's direction. "But make sure she's served her purpose first."

Andre nodded. "Yes, Master."

"You are dismissed now, Andre," Appius said almost sinisterly. "I will see you soon. And be sure to be a good boy—for the sake of your maker."

Andre nodded, rose, and then left.

Mark studied him as he did. The vampire looked broken—embarrassed by his own powerlessness. If Mark and his sister were not even more vulnerable to Appius's whims than the millennium-old vampire, he might have celebrated Andre's fall.

As it was, it just concerned the hell out of him!

* * *

Andre felt the weight of Hallow's spell inside of him as he rushed toward the safehouse he'd been using to bathe away his encounters with the witch.

He cursed in his native language.

He was filled with regret. There had been very few nights of his life when he felt that emotion, let alone powerlessness.

"Damn you, Bill Compton," he growled—as his hurried his pace.

Andre felt strongly that everything had gone to hell because of the Antebellum asshole!

The queen's child scoffed. He might have to placate Appius for the next year, but he vowed to himself that he would find a way to make sure that Bill Compton was finally dead by the end of it.

That thought gave him comfort.

What did not give him comfort were contemplations of the night ahead. How could he keep his knowledge of Appius's plans from his maker? Already, Sophie-Anne was aware that he'd been operating behind her back.

A part of him truly wished to simply tell her all.

"Fuck!" he yelled out in pain as soon as he entertained that thought. Clearly, the witch's magic was potent enough to punish him for even the deliberation of such a confession.

"I'll find a way to make this right and to protect my queen," Andre said as he built back up his speed following his momentary burst of pain. But that way clearly couldn't involve telling his maker about Appius or his plans.

But he _could_ help Appius to get into the mansion, secure Sookie, gain control over Eric, and then exit again. And, perhaps, he could convince the ancient to simply go back to the safehouse at that point.

The next night, the situation could be explained to the queen, who would have to defer to Appius's rights over his child.

Andre nodded to himself, feeling hopeful. It wasn't as if there would even need to be a problem for him! Eric's dead vampire—Molly was her name—would be blamed on Debbie Pelt. Andre would kill Debbie. If Appius would behave to a certain extent, the situation in Area 5 would _seem_ as usual; Andre would make sure his queen suspected nothing was amiss. And it would make sense that Eric would hand over Sookie's "custody" to his maker.

"Appius isn't unreasonable; he will surely even let Sophie-Anne borrow Sookie again," Andre said to himself as he landed at his "clean" safehouse and inhaled deeply. As usual, the magic around the place acted like the strongest of detergents. Indeed, even being in the space would likely eliminate the scents of Appius and the witches. But Andre would take a shower to be sure.

"I just need to get through tonight unscathed," he spoke into the night sky. "So I will—for my maker."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for all the comments after the last chapter and for the support, despite my being MIA for a few weeks. I so appreciate you all!**

 **Okay—so more of Appius's machinations. Andre is sooo not in control of the situation anymore, not that he ever was. Anyone else feeling that sense of foreboding?**

 **Please leave a comment if you have the time and inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**

 **Oh—and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! If you celebrate another holiday, then I hope it is wonderful!**


	38. Chapter 37: Puppet on a String

**Chapter 37: Puppet on a String**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 10:55 p.m.**

As soon as Andre was out of earshot of the old plantation which was serving as the witches' lair, Mark Stonebrook spoke. "You didn't tell Andre about Karin?"

"No," Appius confirmed with a wave of his hand. "I still intend for her to be a surprise."

Hallow cackled.

The vampire looked at her with approval. "The level of magic you produced to keep Andre quiet was truly remarkable. I wonder if you might not work on something very special for me—a final parting gift I have in mind for Eric."

"For _after_ my year with him?" Hallow asked for clarity.

"Of course," Appius confirmed with a nod of his head.

"Then what is your request?" Hallow asked congenially.

"A combination of the things you have already cooked up—actually."

"You want Hallow to leave Eric in a spell that makes you his heart's desire—don't you?" Mark guessed.

Appius looked at the witch almost fondly, causing Mark to cringe a little.

"I will admit that having Eric's _full_ devotion would be pleasing—in some ways." Appius did not mention the fact that a command—issued long ago by his bitch of a maker—would have made Eric's continual presence in his life impossible for the elder vampire to bear. "But I wish to do something a bit more ," he paused, "unconventional—with your and your sister's magical help, of course."

"What do you have in mind?" Hallow asked.

"Well," Appius began, sitting forward in his chair a little, "if I understand correctly, you are able to take away an individual's memory. And you have spells that will make an individual very susceptible to influence. And, of course, there is your lovely Heart's Desire spell. What I have in mind will require all of these spells of yours, though used in an," he paused, "unusual way. Avant-guard really!" he chuckled.

"How so?" Hallow pushed.

"After you are finished with Eric, I have decided that I wish to have more time with him; a week or so should do it. Just long enough to introduce him to my ward's new child." He grinned. "After Eric learns that his beloved Sookie has been made William's child and has had a few nights to mourn that loss, I would like for you to strip Eric of his memories and—if possible—work a bit more of your magic to give me _total_ influence over him."

"But you are his maker. Don't you already have all the influence you could ever want?" Mark asked with curiosity.

"I can _order_ him. But Eric was always stubborn about resisting me. He would not be _shaped_ into what I wished him to be. However, if he were memoryless _and_ if I had the benefit of your Influencing Spell, I believe I could," he paused, smiling sinisterly, " _craft him_ to my will completely."

Mark gulped audibly.

"Regardless, it will be fun trying," Appius chuckled. "After a few nights of my molding him, I believe he would be ready to return to his sheriff's role with new gusto! At that point, another of your Heart's Desire spells would be lovely—again with that element of influence added." He looked at Mark. "You are right; I want for your sister's final spell upon him to make _me_ Eric's heart's desire. And—after that—I will leave him."

"He would follow you," Hallow said. "He wouldn't be able to stop himself."

Appius chuckled. "Not if I issued a maker's command upon him to stay away from me."

Mark's eyes widened. "He would exist in perpetual agony! Forbidden to go to his heart's desire—because that individual has the power to do the forbidding!"

Appius shrugged. "Indeed."

Hallow considered for a moment. "I will modify my spells and have them ready for your purposes at the _end_ of my year with Eric."

"That pleases me. Of course, given these wonders you will perform for me, I will happily give you an additional vial of blood from me at the end of our association," the vampire offered.

"And that pleases me, Ocella," Hallow smiled. She sat forward a little. "Speaking of spells, I have tweaked the spell for the vampiress— _a little_."

"How so?" Appius asked with interest.

"Nothing too different from before. The earlier spell had been designed to strip Eric's memories and _pull_ him to me with magic—at which point I would implant within him the idea that I was his heart's desire. Since you say that Eric is already Karin's desire, the beacon spell would likely compel her directly to him." She shrugged. "In fact, the spell might have even 'popped' her directly to his side as soon as it was unleashed. You would not have been able to," she paused, " _guide_ the process of her obsession if that were the case. And it is clear to me that you wish to guide her."

"I do," Appius nodded. "So—what is your solution?"

"I believe that I have added the necessary components to my potion in order to counteract the aspect of the spell that would make its recipient 'pop.' Once the Heart's Desire spell is delivered to Karin, she'll still lose most of her memories, and she will crave her heart's desire to the level of obsession—greed even. She'll want to be with Eric, but magic _won't_ 'pop' her to him."

Appius looked intrigued. "But she _would_ have teleported before?"

Hallow shrugged. "Likely. I took all steps I could to ensure that Eric would come to me once my spell was upon him." She paused for a moment. "I did not want to risk his being stopped—by anyone."

The room was silent for a moment.

"So—you've created a spell that causes teleportation?" the vampire asked.

Hallow shook her head a little. "Yes, but it's a tricky spell and not as well-tested as I would like. Eliminating that variable in Karin's case seemed prudent."

"It was," Appius smiled with approval. "You truly are proving your worth. And I hope that you will keep that up."

"I will," Hallow said with certainty. "In fact, I've done even more with the spell."

"More?"

"Yes. You'll recall that I was intending to bring Eric to me and then influence him to believe that I was his heart's desire. I still have the Influencing Spell ready. You can use it to make your suggestions to Karin," Hallow offered. "Instead of changing whom her heart desires, however, you can use the Influencing Spell to _control_ her to a certain extent."

"Excellent!" Appius smiled sinisterly. "Shall we go see how your spells work now? I'd like to get Karin ready for my deployment of her before Bill and Alexei arrive, and they are due soon."

"We're ready," Mark said, pushing the discomfort he felt from his tone.

"Come," Hallow said, leading the men from the living room up the stairs to what had once been one of the mansion's many bedrooms.

The crate with Karin inside was against the back wall of the room, and Appius could feel the magic barrier around it.

With a nod from his sister, Mark went over to the crate and lowered his barrier spell before opening the crate.

Karin spared him only a glance before focusing her glare onto Appius.

The elder chuckled. "Do not look at me like that, granddaughter. After all, I'm about to help you _embrace_ your feelings—your desires for the one you crave the most," he taunted.

Karin's expression was a mixture of defiance and fear as she jutted her chin out as much as possible, given the confines of her bindings and her cramped quarters.

"Do it," Appius ordered the witches.

Hallow nodded and took a vial from her pocket. She held it between the palms of her hands and extended her arms out in Karin's direction as Mark moved to stand next to her.

The witch began chanting, and the contents of the vial—a royal blue liquid—began to glow. Karin's eyes fixed onto the object in Hallow's hands, even as the witch moved closer and closer to the vampiress—still chanting. Once directly in front of Karin, Hallow crushed the vial between her hands, and her blood mixed with the potion.

"Fero sanguine uires. Ut totum effundatur sanguis," Hallow said as she wiped her hands—potion, blood, and glass fragments—onto Karin's face. She repeated her words in English. "My blood to strengthen the spell. My blood to make it whole."

Hallow took a step back and seemed to wobble on her feet. Immediately, Mark was there to stabilize her and take her to a chair. He then took care to wrap her hands in a large towel before pulling a vial out of his pocket—one containing vampire blood.

"That is not very potent," Appius remarked of the blood in the vial.

Mark glanced at him, though he immediately wished that he hadn't when he spotted that either the magic, his sister's blood, or a combination of the two had drawn out Appius's fangs—and given him an erection.

"It's not," Mark agreed before holding the vial of blood to his sister's lips so that she could drink it. "But she had some of Karin's blood last night. So this will be enough to heal her hands and bring her energy back."

A clicking noise signaled that Appius had regained control of his fangs. Mark breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Will she not get drunk on vampire blood long removed from its source's body?" the ancient asked.

"Hallow has adapted herself—through blood and magic—to be immune to V's debilitating effects." He looked again at Appius. "At least, when that is her choice."

"All the benefits and none of the side effects that reduce humans due to their sacrilegious taking of our blood," Appius commented with a sneer.

Mark nodded and then let out another sigh of relief as his sister's energy returned to her. He stroked her cheek affectionately.

Meanwhile, Appius's attention had been transferred back to Karin. Still secure in her bindings, she had very limited movement; however, she was trying _very hard_ to move. The ancient vampire studied her eyes.

Heavily dilated, they looked like the eyes of a rabid dog.

"It seems to have worked," Appius grinned.

Hallow stood up and brushed away her brother's attempt to have her lean against him. "Of course, it did!" she said defensively.

Appius rolled his eyes at her tone and moved over to Karin in order to ungag her. Untying her, he thought, wouldn't yet be wise. After stripping away the leather enclosed silver ball gag, he stepped back as her fangs descended. However, he could tell that her violent thoughts were not meant for him. She was looking toward the door.

"Eric!" Karin cried out, even as she tried to pull against her bindings. "I must go to him!"

"Who is Eric?" Mark asked, moving to stand next to Appius. His expression was one of pity—and curiosity.

"He's . . . ." Karin's voice trailed off. "I don't know! I have to go to him!"

"Where is he?" Mark asked.

Karin closed her eyes. "Southeast of here. Please, untie me!"

"What are you?" the male Were-witch asked her.

" _Who_ are you?" Appius followed-up.

Karin looked confused—as if someone had just asked her to solve an impossible equation. "I—uh—I . . . . I am Eric's!" Karin yelled out, clearly frustrated.

Appius looked at Mark, who nodded at him.

From behind them, Hallow spoke. "Move back."

The two males complied, for they both recognized that her voice was—once more—magic-laced.

Again, the powerful witch approached Karin. And again, she chanted, though there was no vial in her hands this time. As she finished her spell, she turned to the vampire; clearly this magic had not weakened her, which spoke to just how difficult the Heart's Desire spell had been to perform.

"I am through with her," Hallow proclaimed. "She is now your creature to influence, though her obsession will remain with Eric no matter what you say."

"Eric! Yes! Eric!" Karin cried out mindlessly.

"She is in your hands," Mark reiterated in a tone of regret as he moved to his sister's side. "We will be preparing Debbie."

"Eric!" Karin yelled again, struggling once more with her bindings.

Appius grinned and waved the witches out of the room. And then he turned to his quarry.

"Dear Karin, look at me," he said softly.

The vampiress complied; clearly, the witch's Influence Spell had worked like a charm. "I am Appius. We are vampires."

Karin nodded. "Yes. I know what we are. I don't know Karin. Is it me? Eric. Please. Let me go. Eric!" she panted with desperation.

"Oh—I intend to help you go to Eric, my dear. Do not fear. And—yes—your name is Karin, and Eric is the vampire who sired you."

"I love him! I _need_ him!" she yelled fervently. "Please—let me go to him. I can't be," she paused, looking around the room like a lost child, "safe without him."

"I am Eric's maker. You are safe with me," Appius assured.

"But why am I tied up here?" Karin asked. "Please, let me go."

"I will. But I must tell you what has happened to you," Appius said with concern in his tone. "And why you don't remember."

"I remember Eric! That is enough! Please!" Karin said, her one-track mind floundering to listen to Appius's words.

"If you listen, I will let you go to him," Appius assured. "In fact, I will take you to him."

Karin registered his offer and nodded her assent, even as she tried to focus on him.

The ancient smiled, but then his face grew serious. "Eric once loved you more than any other. And he would still do so, but he has been captivated by a telepath—a woman who can control his mind!" Appius said with intrigue. "She stole him from you, took away your memories, and put you into this crate. She tied you with silver coated in leather so that you could not get out of the prison she intended for you to waste away in."

Karin's fangs clicked down. "Why did she separate me from Eric?!"

"Jealousy," Appius said soothingly. "She was jealous of his love for you. So she trapped you and used witchcraft to take away your memories, for she wanted you to suffer and rot."

Karin frowned. "There were witches in here—just now."

"Yes," Appius nodded. "They are in my employ. They have done their best to counteract the magic that cursed you, but have only been able to mitigate the amnesia spell. Before their work, you did not even remember Eric or the fact that you are vampire. You were thrashing around mindlessly! But I have found you, Karin. And I have helped you. And, now, I want only to help you _more_ —and to help Eric escape from the harpy who has him in her thrall."

"Why am I tied up?" Karin asked.

"Because I worried that you would _immediately_ go to Eric."

"But that is what I want to do! What I _need_ to do!" Karin insisted.

"I know you feel that way. But to do so would only get you killed. We must work _together_ to save Eric from Sookie Stackhouse's clutches, or we will lose him forever!"

"No!" Karin yelled.

"Look at me!" Appius ordered, projecting all of his power toward her.

The vampiress shook her head for a moment, but then focused on Appius. She found herself drawn to him—somehow. Trusting him.

"Let me guide you," Appius entreated. "I will take you to Eric and will ensure that he is protected while you kill Sookie Stackhouse. Then, he will be yours again, and all will be as it should be. The black magic keeping him from you will be eliminated only after the telepath dies! All you have to do is listen to me—to wait to go to him until _I_ say. Can you do that, Karin?"

The vampiress looked confused for a moment, but then nodded. "Yes," she responded.

"I promise that—if you follow my guidance—you will have Eric by the end of the night," Appius assured.

"And I will kill the one who's keeping him from me. I will kill Sookie Stackhouse!" Karin asserted.

"Yes. But _not_ until I tell you to do so," Appius reiterated, using all of his power to hold her gaze—almost as if he were glamouring her. The ancient could feel the magic in the room, encasing Karin and him within its grip. He knew—from his gift—that Hallow's magic was not harming him.

No—the harm was for Karin alone. She just didn't know it.

"Will you obey me?" Appius pushed.

"Yes," Karin promised.

The elder vampire smiled sadistically. "Good. Then I will unbind you."

"Yes!" the vampiress said desperately.

"If you try to go to Eric before I permit, I will recapture you. And then I will have to save Eric myself." Appius took on a false look of concern. "And I fear that—without your help—I will fail."

"I will obey you," Karin promised. "As long as I get Eric and kill the one who took him from me, I will obey."

"What does she mean?" Bill asked from behind Appius as he and Alexei entered the bedroom.

Appius turned to give Bill a taunting smile. "Karin here is going to kill the telepath who has taken her maker."

"Kill Sookie!?" Bill gasped. "But, Master!"

"Silence!" Appius yelled. "You of all people should know that I have no patience for explaining myself. Do you not trust me, William? Do you not trust that I will meet my commitments to you as _I_ see best?"

Bill looked down, his expression a mixture of confusion and fear. Appius gauged his appearance as the younger vampire seemed to realize something.

"You are testing me," Bill said softly. "You have determined the best course of action, and I will trust in you, Master," he added, the indecision leaving his expression. "Thank you for giving me a lesson in faith."

Appius chuckled. "Faith—yes. That is a good word, for I am your god now, William. Do not forget."

The younger vampire nodded.

"Now—go downstairs and wait in the living room with Alexei," Appius said gently. "I will be down with Karin in a few minutes."

Bill nodded and took his "brother's" hand.

The ancient turned back to Karin and once again captured her gaze. "You must ignore William. He, too, was under the spell of Sookie Stackhouse, though I have been helping him to heal. When you kill her, he will become truly free, just as Eric will."

Karin took in Appius's words with an expression of complete reverence.

He moved to unbind her, making sure he stayed vigilant—just in case either of Hallow's spells was not working as he'd been led to believe. After all, Karin the Slaughterer was known for her prowess and her deceptiveness.

Untied at last, Karin itched to rush out of the room, but she looked to Appius instead. "I am ready to obey," she said vehemently.

Appius smiled. She—too—now had "faith" in him.

Like William, Karin was his creature—to do with as he willed.

* * *

 **A/N: So—what did you think? Are you enjoying Appius the puppeteer? If I didn't hate him so much, I might admire how absolutely evil he is. I have to say that—as I was writing him—I was reminded a lot of a Bond villain.**

 **Poor Karin. Even as I continue to draft this piece, I have no idea whether or not she is going to make it out of all of this alive (or still undead). The "Muse" has decided the fates of pretty much everyone else; I guess we'll all have to see with Karin.**

 **Please leave a comment about the story/chapter if you have the time and/or inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**

 **P.S. Happy New Year!**


	39. Chapter 38: Stuck on You

**Chapter 38: Stuck on You**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 10:50 p.m.**

Sookie breathed a sigh of relief when she and Eric shut their bedroom door behind them. It had taken some time to sort everything out after the battle with Jade and her allies. And then additional security measures had been discussed among the vampires of Louisiana in order to deal with other possible threats from any remaining rogue Arkansas vampires and/or whatever fallout might come from Andre's sudden disappearance.

To make matters more complicated on that front, Andre had—once again—shut down enough of his bond with his maker so that it was impossible for Queen Sophie-Anne to locate him. The queen had considered using her maker's call upon him, but had opted to hold off. She had—after all—told her eldest child to fix things with the Bill situation. Sophie-Anne was holding out hope that Andre was doing just that.

Sookie, too, held out hope that Bill would soon be a nonissue—no matter who was responsible for making him that way.

But there was a worry.

Rasul, the vampire who was keeping a watch on the safehouse where Andre had stowed Bill, was not answering his phone or responding to texts. It was very possible that he was in pursuit of his target and could not risk the communication. His last report, about an hour earlier, indicated that Bill and whoever he was with had received some donors into the house and that the donors had left. Rasul had posited that Bill might be on the move soon and confirmed that he was ready to follow.

If Rasul did not report in by midnight, Wybert was planning to dispatch a vampire to Andre's safehouse in order to check things out. Adding another person to the mix increased the chances of discovery, but the queen's patience was wearing down.

Sookie watched as Eric moved quickly to the bathroom and started the shower. They had to be in the ballroom in only thirty minutes in order to witness the official signing of the betrothal contract between Sophie-Anne and Peter. And they both needed a shower— _badly_.

How they were going to get clean without "distracting" each other, get dressed in fine ball-ready clothing without "distracting" each other, and get to the signing before Peter and Sophie-Anne entered the room without "distracting" each other in the tunnel was anyone's guess!

The telepath entered the bathroom and stripped off her shirt, which had been smudged with some of Jade's blood when she'd embraced Eric following the battle. Her bonded had already stripped and was in the shower, cleaning himself at vampire speed.

Sookie finished disrobing and took a deep breath as she watched her beloved behind the glass of the shower door. She frowned a little as she noted all the blood going down the drain. Eric had killed Jade in a horrible way, and he'd relished in it! Her Christian upbringing fought against all of the lessons she'd been learning about justice in the Supernatural world.

Did she have any doubt that Jade _deserved_ to die for what she'd planned to do?

No.

Would she have preferred it if Eric had killed her instantly—rather than prolonging her death?

Yes.

Sookie shut her eyes tightly; she couldn't help but to relive the memory of Jade's head popping from her body due to Eric's prolonged pressure upon her neck. There had been nothing quick in her death as her bonded had punished Jade and had relished in her helplessness.

Could Sookie live with his brutality?

She opened her eyes to see that Eric had paused his shower and was looking at her closely, his head tilted a little. She knew that the vampire in front of her loved her more than anything. She knew that he would not kill a random person in the same way that he'd killed Jade; indeed, she believed in Eric's ethics enough to know that he wouldn't kill a random person at all! Moreover, she knew that Eric's actions always stemmed from his honor—his loyalty.

"I love you," she said as she opened the shower door to join him under the water.

"I love you," her vampire returned. Sookie immediately put herself into Eric's arms and simply rested her head against his strong chest for a moment.

"I wish we had more time," the telepath sighed, even as she attempted to step back from him in order to begin her own washing.

Tightening his embrace, Eric didn't let her. "I am tempted to skip the signing so that I can have you in this shower," he growled roguishly.

"I'm tempted to let you," Sookie breathed. "But we both have duties left to do tonight."

With a final squeeze and a kiss to his bonded's forehead, Eric began to wash her—again using vampire speed. Sookie simply smiled and let him, enjoying the odd sensation of her bonded so quickly bathing her. They'd run late enough times—due to their extracurricular activities—to have had to perform similar _quick_ -cleansing operations before, so she was used to them. Within a minute, he'd somehow managed to shampoo and condition her hair, bathe her body, and rinse her off.

As he turned off the water, she chuckled. "A new record."

He grinned. "Let's see if I can break another one—as I dry you off."

Sookie stepped out of the shower and lifted her arms. She smirked. "Go for it, and do the towel thing on my hair. It has to be at least mostly dry for me to do any kind of styling—not that I'll have time to do the updo I'd planned."

"I like it down anyway, Lover," he smiled, even as he went to work on her with a towel. In what seemed to be seconds, her body was dry. And then he had another towel around her head, moving it at such a rate that it seemed to vibrate around her head. She moaned at the feeling.

"I'd really like to get you dirty again," Eric growled. "And if you continue purring as you are, I might not be able to resist—commitments to my monarch be damned!"

Sookie giggled, but somehow held in her moans as Eric finished. She could feel that her hair was only a little damp, thanks to his attentions. "Thanks," she said as he began his own towel-off.

He acknowledged her thanks by pausing his movements and leaning down to place a tender peck on the lips.

" _Later_ ," he promised.

"Definitely," she agreed.

His eyes glistening with affection, he gave her another peck and was just leaning away when fear clouded his vision.

"What is it?" Sookie asked, her concern clear.

Eric shook his head as the feeling went away.

"That feeling again— _dread_."

"That's the third time you've felt that, isn't it?" Sookie asked with concern.

"Yes," Eric responded.

Sookie was thoughtful for a moment. "What gives you dread?"

"The thought of losing you," Eric answered without hesitation.

" _Who_ gives you dread?" she followed up.

Eric's face alit with recognition. "Appius. My maker gives me dread."

Sookie reached out to take his hand. "Could he be nearby?"

Eric shrugged. "I cannot be sure. He is a master at hiding himself in our bond. All I know is that he lives on."

Sookie sighed deeply. "We can face anything together. I truly believe that."

Eric leaned down until they were forehead to forehead. "So do I."

They took a moment to bask in their love and to send each other comfort and strength through their bond. Those feelings echoed and grew between them.

"Let's get ready," he finally said—though softly.

The telepath nodded and began to brush through her hair, thankful that Eric's drying technique had maximized her hair's natural waviness.

It was when she was putting on her dress and he was putting on his tuxedo that he paused again. "If _anything_ goes wrong . . . ."

"I'll come right back here. You too," she ordered. "No matter what—we _don't_ separate," she added firmly.

"I agree," he nodded, even as he took in her appearance in her ice-blue dress. "You look beautiful, Lover."

She grinned. "You only call me that when you want to rip my clothes off of me, Mr. Northman," she said as she approached him to smooth his lapel.

"You don't know how much I want that," he replied passionately. "How much I want to keep you locked up in here and safe—until I can get us home and safer."

She put her hand onto his cheek. "I wish the queen would just relent to one of those good intention spells around the ballroom."

Eric scoffed. "That would be diplomatic suicide. Too many people come here wanting to cause her harm or—at least—to take something from her. A spell cannot tell a crooked politician from a potential assassin, I'm afraid. However, she has finally opted to have Octavia and Amelia construct an ill-intent spell around her private quarters and the hallways leading from her office to them."

"After tonight, I don't blame her," Sookie sighed. "Too bad they can't do it right away," she added with a shiver as she turned to put on a necklace Eric had gotten her to mark their blood bond. The large, elegant ruby pendant, shaped like a drop, didn't exactly match her dress, but Sookie didn't care. Though the piece was extravagant, she'd accepted the gift without any protest when Eric had told her what it was to commemorate. The night he'd given it to her was doubly special in her mind because he had asked her to pledge to him. She'd happily said "yes," and the two were planning a small ceremony to take place on the first Saturday in March.

"At least Amelia and Octavia will be at the ball—and ready to use their magic if there is a threat tonight," the vampire stated as he took over the clasping of the necklace from his bonded when she missed the fastener on her first try.

"Do you think that Octavia should go to Andre's safehouse? To see if she can sense what's goin' on beyond the magical spell he put up? Or Padma?" Sookie asked of the strong witch and the vampire guard, whose gift related to the detection of magic.

Eric considered for a moment and then shook his head. "Octavia would have to use magic in order to try to bring down Andre's spell, and that would alert whoever is inside to her presence. And—to be frank—I don't want one of our people anywhere near such an unknown situation."

"Your feeling of dread?" Sookie asked.

"I don't know," the vampire answered honestly. "Something about the Bill situation seems off though."

Sookie sighed loudly and joined his eyes in the mirror. They both had looks of concern on their faces.

"You have my back and I have yours," Sookie said with surety. "No one can come between that."

"Not even my maker," Eric vowed, though he couldn't quite share her complete confidence in that moment.

Spinning her around he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Are you gonna save me a dance, handsome?" Sookie asked, hoping to add a little levity to the moment.

"All my dances are yours," he responded with a grin. "But I'm sure that the tiger will be upset."

Sookie chortled. "I bet he flips his lid when he takes a whiff of me."

"You are certain you want to come out as mine—my bonded?" Eric asked.

She nodded. "It's not like I could have stayed covert for long." She took a deep breath. "No. When I decided to be a telepath for hire, I also decided to stop trying to be someone I wasn't. It would defeat the purpose to try to hide who I am now."

"Plus, I want everyone to know that you are mine—Weretigers included," Eric smirked.

"And I want everyone to know you're mine, Mr. Northman," the telepath smiled as she laced her arm into Eric's.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 11:20 p.m.**

Eric and Sookie entered the ballroom just minutes before the signing of the betrothal contract was to occur. The telepath took a deep, nervous breath as she noted that she was among the elite dignitaries who had been invited to witness the signing before the ball started.

"What is it?" her bonded asked softly.

"Only that I'm _very_ far from bein' a waitress," she whispered back.

Eric smiled at her, even as he took in the people in the room. A U.S. Senator, the Governor of Louisiana, and the Mayor of New Orleans were all present with their wives, representing the power structure in the human government. The two packmasters from Were groups in and around the New Orleans area were also present with their families. The other Louisiana vampire sheriffs were in attendance, as were some sheriffs from Arkansas and other surrounding states. In addition, two monarchs were present: King Russell Edgington of Mississippi, who was—arguably—Sophie-Anne's closest ally, and King Ian Bowles of Tennessee, who was Peter's. In addition, Hyun-Ae Kim, a representative of the Vampire Council, was in attendance. All others invited to the ball would not be allowed to enter the ballroom until ten minutes to midnight.

"Well—if it isn't the intrepid Sheriff of Area 5!" Russell Edgington purred, approaching Eric and Sookie. A good-looking human of Mediterranean descent accompanied him.

"Russell!" Eric greeted the Mississippi king with a nod. "I thought you'd declined your invitation."

"Ah—well Talbot here was in the mood for a ball!" Russell responded. "Tell me—have you met my human companion?"

"I don't believe so," Eric said politely, even as Sookie squeezed his arm twice in quick succession. The signal meant that nothing in Talbot's brain indicated any trouble.

"I see that your lovely companion is here—though the last time I met her, she smelled much less you-like," he chuckled. "Hello, Miss Stackhouse."

"Hello, Your Majesty," Sookie said with a slight curtsy. "We're very sorry for all the shenanigans the last time we met," she added charmingly.

Russell laughed heartily. "No harm done! Tell me—did Bubba make it back home safely."

Sookie nodded. "Yes—but he didn't accompany us here for obvious reasons."

The main reason being that his true existence was still covered up by the vampires who knew about him.

Russell chuckled. "Of course, though I am glad to be 'in the know' about him now."

Sookie looked momentarily worried; Bubba was a gentle soul and fragile when confronted by his past life.

"Don't worry, Miss Stackhouse," the Mississippi king said, softening his smile. "His secret is safe with me and mine."

"Thanks," the telepath said sincerely.

Just then, John Quinn entered the room dressed in bright, shiny clothing.

"I see that Mr. Clean and a genie have procreated," Russell stated flatly.

Sookie couldn't hold in her snort of laughter, drawing the attention of the Weretiger who took in her appearance with hungry eyes, but also with some confusion about why she was in the room, given her "lower" status. Likely, he was also nonplussed that she was on Eric's arm.

"Just wait till you catch a whiff," Sookie said under her breath. Eric made sure that Sookie felt his amusement through their bond.

"Attention honored guests!" Quinn said with a raised voice.

All eyes in the room turned toward him.

"You have all been invited to witness the signing of the betrothal contract between Their Royal Highnesses, Queen Sophie-Anne Leclerq of Louisiana and King Peter Threadgill of Arkansas!" he proclaimed.

At that moment, Peter entered from the north side of the large circular ballroom, even as Sophie-Anne entered from the south side.

Eric and Sookie gave each other a significant look as they noticed that Sophie-Anne was accompanied only by Wybert, Sigebert, and Hadley. Apparently, Andre hadn't reappeared yet.

Both members of the bonded pair sent caution to the other, causing them to smile slightly at the similar track of their thoughts. Andre's absence was significant; they just didn't know how or why yet.

Jennifer Cater was accompanying the king, who looked dashing in his tuxedo and full regalia.

The two monarchs met in the middle of the room where a small table was set up. There, Quinn had placed a formal copy of the betrothal agreement and two special quills, with which the monarchs would sign the document in blood.

Quinn motioned for Peter to begin.

"I am honored this night to betroth myself to Queen Sophie-Anne Leclerq!" Peter said loudly and confidently. "May our alliance be strong and mutually beneficially to our states and ourselves!"

With that, the King of Arkansas took one of the quills and pressed its sharp edge against his left palm, drawing blood. Then he signed the document.

Quinn looked Sophie-Anne's way.

She stepped forward a little. "I am honored this night to betroth myself to King Peter Threadgill. May our alliance be strong and mutually beneficially to our states and ourselves!"

Similar to the king, she used a quill to sign her name in blood.

"Your declarations have been witnessed and recorded. May your union thrive!" Quinn said loudly.

"May your union thrive," repeated the others in the room.

"King Peter Threadgill and Queen Sophie-Anne Leclerq happily announce that their official pledging will take place _tonight_ —if the Vampire Council approves of the match!" Quinn announced excitedly.

Both monarchs looked toward Hyun-Ae Kim, who took a step forward. "I speak for the Council. There are no objections."

"You don't wish to wait for Rhodes?" Russell asked, brazenly breaking into the ceremony and earning a glare from Quinn.

"We are impatient," Sophie-Anne winked at the Mississippi king.

Russell gave her a nod of the head and chuckled merrily. "Well—it is Valentine's Day! And Arkansas is a tasty dish!"

Peter pulled at his collar a little, but still winked at Russell.

Clearly nonplussed by the interruptions, Quinn continued, "The wedding will take place at the end of the ball—at 3:00 a.m. This concludes this portion of tonight's festivities. The ball will officially begin at midnight!"

With that, Sophie-Anne gave Eric a significant look and then moved her gaze toward the door at the east side of the room—where the monarchs were headed. Clearly, the queen was looking for Eric and Sookie to join her and Peter.

"Excuse us," Eric said to Russell. "I believe my queen has summoned me."

"I hope you will save me a dance, Miss Stackhouse," Russell requested.

Sookie gave the king a crooked smile. "Sorry, Your Majesty, but my dance card's already been filled up."

Russell chuckled merrily. "I see that it has," he remarked as he took in the possessive way in which Eric was holding on to his woman.

"Perhaps another night?" he teased.

"Probably gonna be full for the foreseeable future," the telepath winked as Eric guided her away.

Unfortunately, before they could reach the east door, which Sophie-Anne and Peter were just leaving through, Quinn intercepted them.

"Hey, Babe!" he said excitedly. "I wasn't expecting you to be here for this part!"

"Worried she'd see you dressed up like a circus clown?" Eric asked.

Quinn looked mystified about why anyone might insult his chosen clothing. "This is a ceremonial event," he said by way of explanation—or justification.

"Excuse us, Mr. Quinn," Sookie said. "But we need to be somewhere."

"I was hoping that I could . . . ." Quinn's voice trailed off as he inhaled Sookie's scent. He looked at her with confusion.

"Babe?"

"If you insult my bonded by referring to her in such a way again, I will have a tiger rug on my living room floor," Eric hissed quietly. "Now, be a good little pussy and go chase your tail."

"Bonded?" Quinn asked—quite loudly. All eyes now turned to the three in the middle of the room.

Sookie stood straight. After all, she'd been the one who didn't want her scent to be covered by more of Amelia's magic. And her status as Eric's bonded would soon be known by any older vampires able to put two and two together—as Russell had clearly already done. Moreover, one thing that she'd learned from Pam and Eric was that vampires loved to gossip.

"Yes! Bonded!" she proclaimed proudly. "Now, excuse us, Mr. Quinn. We are needed elsewhere."

For a moment, the Weretiger seemed like he might stay in their path, but he wisely moved away.

"What is it with you and mouth-breathers?" Eric chuckled softly, though a good proportion of the people in the room could still hear him.

Sookie giggled. "I have no idea. Clearly, I much prefer _non_ -breathers."

* * *

 **A/N: So just a little interlude. I was needing an Eric and Sookie connection after all that Appius yuckiness. And, of course, this chapter gets us closer to midnight, the start of the ball. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **Please leave me a comment if you have the time and/or inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


	40. Chapter 39: Separate Ways

**Chapter 39: Separate Ways**

 **SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13 • 11:35 p.m.**

When Sookie and Eric finally exited the ballroom, Thalia and Padma were waiting for them. The elder vampiress was dressed in her customary black—what Sookie had come to call her ass-kicking uniform. Padma was dressed for a ball, wearing a lovely yellow and purple sari.

It would be Padma's job—along with Pam and the other Area 5 vampires with the exception of Molly and Palomino—to hover near Eric and Sookie at the ball, pretending to socialize. No longer worried about ruffling her eldest child's feathers (because she planned to ruffle them herself), the queen had authorized Molly to monitor all of the activity on the estate from the control room with Palomino and several of Sophie-Anne's trusted vampires watching over her. The two-natured in the Area 5 group, led by Maria-Star, were already patrolling the grounds, along with some of the queen's most trusted security forces.

As for Thalia, her role was to do whatever _she_ thought best to protect Sookie, and she wasn't about to compromise her ability by dressing the part for the ball—not that anyone would have expected her to do so even if she didn't have a job to do.

In fact, if she hadn't been needed at the ball to protect Sookie, there would have been no way in hell that she would have been caught un-dead at such an event!

"The queen and king have gone to the queen's office," Padma reported in a hushed voice. "We're to follow."

Nodding, Eric picked up Sookie so that the group could rush at vampire speed to the office.

There, they were met by a stony-face Sigebert and Jacob, the king's preferred guard.

"Andre is back," Sigebert informed. "My maker is," he paused, "questioning him."

"We'll wait out here then," Eric said as he put down his bonded.

"No. The queen wants you all to hear," the Saxon informed. "It will add to his shame," he further explained, his own disdain for his "brother's" behavior clear in his tone. He opened the door to the spacious office.

Eric quickly led his group inside and took in those in the room. Peter was leaning casually against the wall near the door they'd just entered. Jennifer stood stoically next to him. Hadley was in the far corner of the room—looking quite upset.

Andre was in a chair, secured by silver chains. He was bare-chested, and the silver was digging into his flesh.

Sophie-Anne was sitting in a chair in front of him, simply staring at her child. Wybert was right behind her.

"If our maker feels any pain whatsoever, I _will_ end you," Wybert warned.

Eric glanced at Peter.

"Andre arrived minutes before the signing. Sophie-Anne asked him where he'd been, and he clamped-up like someone had cut out his tongue," the king explained. "We brought him here and chained him up. That's why we were running a little late to the signing."

"Where were you, Andre?" Sophie-Anne asked her child. "As your maker, I command you to tell me!"

Andre's face screwed up with pain. "I cannot. I'm sorry," he managed.

"That's all we got out of him before, too," Peter volunteered.

"What _will_ you tell me?" Sophie-Anne asked, taking a different approach.

"I was doing what you'd asked of me," Andre swore.

Sophie-Anne reached out for Wybert's hand—likely for emotional support. "What did you do? As you maker, I command you to tell me!"

"I cannot! But I swear it is _all_ for the good!" Andre gasped, the pain of not following his maker's command clearly almost unbearable.

Sophie-Anne seemed thoughtful for a moment. "As your maker, I command you to cease blocking our emotional connection!"

Immediately, Sophie-Anne closed her eyes as if in pain. "You are conflicted. You feel a distressing amount of guilt and regret."

"Yes," Andre whispered.

"How are you ignoring my other commands?" she asked.

"I cannot say," he responded, again looking to be in pain. "I want to tell."

"He speaks true," the queen reported.

"What did you do tonight? Tell me!" she pushed her command again—this time as hard as she could.

Andre gasped and then yelled out in pain, which his maker seemed to be sharing to a certain extent now.

"I cannot say! Please, let me go! There are things," he paused, "that I _must_ do."

"Do they relate to where you were?" his maker asked.

"I cannot say!"

"Does it relate to Compton?"

"I cannot say!" Andre squirmed.

Sophie-Anne looked back at Peter and Eric.

"He is speaking the truth about not being _able_ to tell me what I ask. I could continue pushing my influence upon him, but it would take its toll upon me," Sophie-Anne explained.

"And we are due at a ball," Peter reminded.

The queen nodded.

"Majesties?" Padma said softly.

"Yes?" Sophie-Anne asked. "You are Padma—correct?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." The beautiful vampiress looked at Eric. "With your permission, Sheriff?"

Eric nodded. "Say what you need to."

"Magic is my gift," Padma volunteered, "at least detecting it is. I can detect the presence of magic even when others cannot."

Sophie-Anne frowned and turned toward Andre. She inhaled deeply. "I smell no magic."

Padma took a small step forward. "Cedar," she said softly. "In India, some witches have been known to use it and certain other ingredients to create a soap which can cover up most traces of magic."

"I have never heard of such a thing," Sophie-Anne commented.

"I am not surprised. I learned of it only because I made it my purpose to develop my gift. And that meant building relationships with some very secretive witches; over time, I learned many secrets. May I get closer to him? To see if I am right and test whether there is magic beneath the scent of the soap?" Padma asked as she gestured toward Andre.

"You have my permission," the queen responded.

Padma glanced quickly at Eric, who gave her a nod, and then she approached Andre, dipping low and then turning her head as if her goal was to smell into his ear canal.

"Gross," Sookie muttered.

Eric and Peter both chuckled softly, though not enough to interrupt the activities—or the tension—in the other part of the office.

"There _is_ magic here," Padma confirmed after about ten seconds of silence. "I would have missed it but, . . . ."

"But?" the queen asked.

"Every witch has his or her own signature when creating magic; it's almost like a fingerprint for those with the ability to distinguish the differences," Padma informed.

Sophie-Anne nodded. "I have come to be able to distinguish some witches as I have aged, but I can recognize only witches whom I have encountered _many_ times. I take it that your ability is more refined."

"It is, Your Majesty. I can, for example, distinguish _two_ witch signatures in the spell that is upon your child. One is from the same being who trapped—and we think captured—Debbie Pelt," Padma informed.

Sookie gasped, even as Eric's fangs descended.

"Not a friend—I assume," Peter observed.

"No," Sookie responded.

"Can you tell the nature of the magic?" the queen questioned Padma.

"Based upon Andre not responding to your commands, it is safe to assume that the spell stifles him from speaking about his interactions with Bill Compton and whoever else is working with him. Clearly, your maker's command cannot break through."

"If I kept trying?" the queen asked.

Padma shook her head. "When a maker's command and strong magic are at odds with each other, the effect upon the victim is soul-crushing." She lowered her head. "I have seen such a situation only once. There is no torture that I would not face—if I could avoid such a tearing of my soul."

Peter stepped forward. "It is nearing midnight, my queen, and we must—at least—make an appearance at the ball. Might I suggest that you bring in Eric's witch Amelia and her mentor, Octavia, to see if they can lift the magic upon Andre?"

Sophie-Anne considered Peter's idea for a moment. "Your idea is a good one, but I have something else in mind."

She leaned forward in her chair until she was touching Andre's knee. Her touch and gaze were affectionate.

"I have loved you since I made you, my child. I have counted on you. I have trusted you. I don't want to hurt you—especially not in the way that Padma has described."

"I am sorry, my queen," Andre whimpered, a red tear falling from his eyes.

"In this moment, I believe that you _are_ truly contrite, my child." She smiled softly. "Our bond tells me this. But I must punish you for whatever it is that you have done to get yourself into this position. I must send you from my side."

Andre shook his head. "Please! No!"

"Yes," Sophie-Anne said softly. "Beginning tomorrow night, I _command_ you to leave my presence _and_ this state. You are never to contact me or your kin. You are never to contact any person in Louisiana or Arkansas. You are never to be involved in any plan to interfere—either for the good or the bad—with Louisiana or Arkansas. As of tomorrow night, you are cut off from me—with no help beyond access to your personal bank accounts _outside_ of the United States—where you will preferably go." She brushed away her own tear.

"Please. No!" Andre repeated desperately.

"Perhaps, one night, far into the future, I will contact you. In the meantime, I'd suggest that you find a situation where you can demonstrate all of the admirable qualities that I have seen in you—loved in you—over the years that we have been together." She stood up. "You lost your way. And—beginning tomorrow night—I am going to let you try to find it again. And—as for tonight—I am going to let you go."

"Let him go?" Peter asked.

"Yes," Sophie-Anne said decisively. "Clearly, my child is a part of a plot meant to do harm or to go against my wishes in some way." She looked back at Eric and Sookie. "I fear it involves you."

"I believe that you are correct," Eric said, even as he pulled Sookie closer to his side.

The queen looked back at Andre. "As you maker, I _command_ you to get cleaned up and dressed. You will join us at the ball as if nothing is wrong. And you will go about your night as you had planned before I had you chained to that chair. If you are working with Compton or witches or anyone else, I _command_ you to do as they wanted you to do!"

"Why let him go free?" Wybert asked insistently.

Sophie-Anne gazed up at her trusted child and smiled at him. "You will know when you think with your head and not your heart, dear child. You will know when you can separate your feelings about Andre's betrayal from that honed ability to strategize that I know that you possess."

Wybert considered for a moment. "Yes. I understand."

"I don't!" Sookie cried. "Why let him go when he's probably tryin' to help Bill get to me?"

Eric held her even more closely. "She is going to _use_ him, min kära." He looked at Thalia. " _You_ are the best for the task needed. Are you ready?"

The vampiress looked at Sookie. Clearly, she was torn, for she preferred to stay by the side of the one that she was guarding. "Yes," she finally responded. "I am ready to do what is needed to _best_ protect my charge."

"Wait!" Hadley said, stepping forward. "I'm with Sookie here! I don't get what's goin' on!"

Sophie-Anne stood up. "Andre will be bait. Whatever he does, Thalia will shadow, and—through him—we will learn about our enemies' plans, even if Andre cannot tell us. Thalia will, then, inform us so that we can act accordingly." She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss onto Andre's lips.

"Even when you are not with me, I will love you. But my trust for you is gone for now," she said softly.

"I love you! I'd do anything for you! Don't send me away! Please!" Andre begged.

"I _command_ you not to speak to your confederates about us knowing anything at all about your duplicity," she said as she leaned away from him. "I _command_ you not to give away—in any way—that Thalia is watching you. You are to go on as if we did not know and as if she was not there. And I _command_ you to not speak with me again or to beg of me another fate for yourself. If you have a situation regarding your confederates that you can relate, you are to do so to Eric, Wybert, or Thalia. Do you understand? I do not want to hear your voice again!"

More tears streaming down his cheeks, Andre nodded.

Sophie-Anne's gaze turned cold. "You made this fate for yourself, child. You will be banished from me after you have served your purpose tonight."

With that, she turned to Peter. "We have a ball to get to."

The Arkansas king pushed himself from the wall against which he'd remained leaning throughout the encounter between the queen and her eldest child. "Remind me never to cross you, Sophie-Anne," he said as he offered her his arm. "You know, too well, how to hit where it hurts."

"Even when it's hard," the queen agreed. She looked at Eric. "If Sookie is harmed tonight—or at _any time after_ due in _any way_ to Andre—you have my permission to end him. Otherwise, I ask that you accept his banishment as punishment enough."

"I do," the sheriff agreed.

"And you, Sookie?" the queen asked the telepath, surprising everyone in the room by seeking Sookie's permission for the way she intended to punish her own child.

The telepath's reply was spoken almost shyly. "Your plan's fine by me, Your Majesty. I'm sorry this is causing you pain," she added sympathetically.

Sophie-Anne put her hand gently onto Sookie's arm and gave her a little nod.

"Our ball awaits us!" she said brightly to Peter, even as she resisted the urge to turn back to look at Andre.

Everyone followed except for Wybert, left behind to free his brother and Thalia—left behind to shadow him.

Eric paused at the door with Sookie in order to speak to the latter. "Thalia, we will follow your lead in whatever is coming. Keep me informed about everything that he does."

The vampiress nodded and then looked at Sookie. "The Viking will watch over you. He is not as good as me, but he'll do for a few hours," she said with a glint in her eyes.

Sookie couldn't help herself. She moved away from Eric to give the vampiress a quick hug. "You look out for _yourself_ —okay? I'll worry about you."

Thalia's eyebrow rose in surprise and a small smile touched her lips—but only for a moment.

Perhaps, after all, the vampiress was thawing a bit—but only where the telepath was concerned. As Sookie and Eric left the room, Thalia turned back to set her neutral gaze upon Andre. She felt uneasy being out of sight of Sookie Stackhouse, but she knew that following Andre was their best bet for getting the upper hand on whatever enemies they were to face.

The Viking was right. She was the best one for the job.

Still there was no way she would have agreed if it wasn't for the fact that there was a Britlingen somewhere nearby—always watching over Sookie as well.

She quickly texted Maria-Star with an update and asked the Were to inform the others about the relevant details. Then, she turned her focus onto Wybert, who had put on gloves before removing Andre's silver chains.

Andre virtually collapsed against his chair as tears continued to stream down his face.

"You have brought this upon yourself, brother," the Saxon said at a low volume. "Begin re-proving yourself tonight by doing as our maker asked, and one night—many years from now—she will forgive you."

A tortured look upon his face, Andre nodded and stood up. "I will go to my chambers and ready myself for the ball," he informed. He looked at Thalia. "I am going to clean myself, but I will take only the bare minimum of blood so that no wounds will be obvious."

The vampiress and Wybert both nodded their approval, for Andre had just signaled to them that he was choosing to go through the night in a weakened state; thus, he'd be less capable when attempting to fulfill whatever goals had been laid out for him by his confederates.

In other words, he'd be easier to stop, though vulnerable to be killed.

"That is a good start, Brother," Wybert said.

"Protect her—if I fall," Andre grunted as if in pain.

"I will make sure she is not vulnerable," Wybert promised before turning to Thalia. "You have this?"

Thalia gave the Saxon a look.

He chuckled as he left the room. "Sorry I asked."

Thalia and Andre stood silent for a moment.

"I do not trust you to do the right thing; that is another reason why I was chosen," Thalia said to Andre, her fangs clicking down.

"I know," he responded, his expression that of a broken vampire.

"One foot out of line and I _will_ end you."

"I know," he repeated.

* * *

 **A/N: So? What do you think? Should Sophie-Anne have let Andre go? I thought about having her chain him up, but—ultimately—I liked the idea of the "good guys" using Andre. Up next—it's time for the ball! And the fireworks.**

 **Please leave me a comment if you have the time and inclination.**

 **Best,**

 **Kat**


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